


Beginnings

by TheLettersN_A_M_E



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Champion Shiro, Female pronouns for Pidge, Galra Keith (Voltron), Galra Prince Keith, Gen, everyone starts out in the Galra Empire AU, kinda Keith centric?, since that's what's used in the series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLettersN_A_M_E/pseuds/TheLettersN_A_M_E
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding each other may have been harder if things had been more complicated; if Shiro hadn't escaped, if Keith had a different past, if Pidge, Hunk and Lance had been a little less lucky, if Allura and Coran weren't left undiscovered in their ten thousand year sleep. Things may have been harder if they'd had to find each other in the heart of the Galra Empire.</p><p>Or, things start out a little differently, but they get there in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much based on a tumblr post by youreagalrakeith.tumblr.com, which can be found here: http://youreagalrakeith.tumblr.com/post/148708154811/aus-okay-so-feel-free-not-to-answer-this-one
> 
> However, that outlines the majority of the plot (though I have made some major changes/additions), so only click it if you don't mind spoilers.
> 
> This won't be particularly shippy, as I'm not much for writing romance and personally prefer gen relationships, but I'll admit I included a few Klance hints almost out of habit from hanging around this fandom... The rating may go up as the story goes, but if so that would mainly just be for mild swearing/violence.
> 
> For some reason, the italics on this went quite screwy -- I went through so much PAIN trying to get them to work, but only the "this" at the beginning will show up in italics, at least from my side. If you could tell me if this isn't the case for you as a reader, or you know how to fix it, I would greatly appreciate it.
> 
> Though I've been a long time lurker, this is my first multi chapter fic, and one of my first fics in general (first published, too). I'd love any kind of response, including constructive criticism, but really I'm just here to have fun, and therefore I may take a while to continue it. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Edit: Fixed the formatting!

“Why me? Why now? Why _this?"_

He was unable to keep a certain amount of disgust from his voice as he said it — he was being sent to, what, interrogate some lower lifeforms from some distant galaxy who were _undoubtedly_ unimportant, lacking in _any_ useful knowledge, and represented _nothing_ beyond a complete waste of space and, more importantly, his time.

Yeah, real befitting a mission for someone of his status — inexperienced or not.

Despite his status, however, he knew instantly he should have kept his mouth shut. Zarkon’s face morphed into a scowl before his voice rang out.

“Is your loyalty really so wavering that you feel the need to question my orders?”

Korath glared mutinously for a tic longer… before lowering his gaze to the floor.

Zarkon sighed, sitting back in his chair, clearly too used to dealing with the more wayward of his sons.

“I hope you realize that an attitude such as that is _exactly_ why I have assigned you to such a mission. It is not a priority of any sort, no, but it is… somewhat uncharted territories, coupled with a possible escapee.”

A brief smirk flashed across his features, and Korath was suddenly struck with the feeling he had missed something. _Somewhat?_ Korath grit his teeth, unhappy with the realization that there was yet more his father refused to explain. Typical.

Then, however, Zarkon softened slightly, and elaborated.

“Who else could I trust to scout ahead for our Empire? Who else but my own blood will look into the matter of a rogue escape pod, will do what I ask, as I ask, and nothing more?”

When Korath continued to sulk and said nothing, Zarkon grew frustrated.

“While you may believe this to be beneath your station, you are yet untested in the field. You have excelled in your combat and piloting training, yes, but your tutors continue to complain to me about your attitude towards the complexities of our culture and the inner workings of our Empire. While you do not outright flaunt authority, the extent to which you seem to disregard it is alarming. I will not put someone who displays such undesirable characteristics, let alone my own son, at the head of something in which there are actual stakes, and in front of an audience upon which your behaviour will reflect back onto me. However-”

Zarkon leaned forward as his voice quietened, making sure his son knew the importance of what he was saying.

“Your skills, as I have stated, will only stagnate if they are not put to good use. Believe me when I say that this is generous compared to what I gave Lotor as his first mission, and although he was worse behaved than you are now, it is only marginally. At least _you_ accept what little they manage to teach you when you show up.”

Zarkon slowly sat back, eying his son in silence for a moment before continuing more neutrally.

“For your lack of gratefulness, you must personally oversee these creatures. They will be your problem until they are brought back to base, or killed, whichever you prefer. Do not hand them over to a general to handle — you must learn to make such calls for yourself before you can decide who else may be adequate when you inevitably have better things to do. Think of it as furthering your training. You will leave by morning.”

Zarkon waved a hand in clear dismissal as he finished, already beginning to turn away.

Silently furious, Korath schooled his face into the blank mask he was so good at. He stared into middle distance as he straightened and nodded his understanding before sweeping out of the room.

This was ridiculous, humiliating, even — getting a dressing down for rightfully protesting a joke of a mission. The very insinuation that he would let his father down made his blood boil.

He focused on the anger in order to distract from the sinking pit in his stomach that came with a very uncomfortable realisation.

Screw training — this was a test.

One he refused to fail.

__________

“Why did this happen to me? Why do _neither_ of you two seem to know when to just _let things go?_ Who sees a glowing purple ship crash land in the desert and just _walks inside?”_

Hunk moaned even louder as he clutched his head in realization. “Ugh, what kind of moron _lets_ themselves be dragged into a glowing purple ship when they clearly realize they’re the only sane person there?”

“Quit complaining Hunk, we’ve gotten more answers in the past hour than we got in a year,” Lance joked, though Pidge could see his hands clench apprehensively. “I mean, sure, we still don’t know where Shiro is, and we _also_ no longer know what the _hell_ is going on, but hey, at least we know it definitely wasn't an accident. And, wow, bonus proof of alien life-"

“Will you two _shut it?”_ Pidge hissed over her shoulder. She glared at them until Lance mimed zipping his mouth shut, Hunk in turn giving a sheepish, uneasy smile. Pidge turned back to the control panel, scrutinising it for another moment, before sighing.

“We’ll have to just see what happens. I’m not much of a pilot, though I’d love to be, and this isn’t like any other tech I’ve ever seen before. I have no clue how to get this back up and running, let alone what I would do with the active system. Besides, if they’re as intent on pulling us in as they currently seem to be, we won’t have much of a chance to get away without, you know, getting obliterated. They look like sister ships — in terms of origin, I mean, not style or purpose — so they’ll clearly know their own tech better than we do. And how on earth would we even go about escaping a _tractor beam?”_

They all stared in silence out the cockpit, where what would undeniably have usually been a breathtaking sight of the solar system was obstructed by a looming, intimidating warship that was slowly getting larger as they approached it, awash in red light.

After a tense moment, Lance (of course) broke the silence.

“Okay, I am _not_ waiting around to be slaughtered by that ship of obvious murder. I mean, look at that thing! It’s got the color scheme of every Disney villain ever!”

Pidge shot him a dirty look.

“What do you suggest, then?”

“Easy — you may not be a pilot, but I am, and we know this thing can fly. I mean, it got us out here very much against our will without us even _doing_ anything! Surely it doesn’t run solely on autopilot.”

“Uh, no, it probably doesn’t,” Hunk cut in, “but I don’t think that was autopilot. I think that was an override.”

Pidge and Lance looked to him, clearly expecting more. He gave a frustrated huff.

“Look, they’re pulling us in with a tractor beam. They’re clearly here for us, and I don’t think they could land that massive thing, or be able to use that tractor beam from outside the atmosphere. Whatever they did to the ship? I think it’s dead now. They activated it from their ship, and brought it close enough for the tractor beam to pull in, rather than try to try to remotely land it. And then they killed the system so we couldn’t get away,” he finished uneasily, visibly cringing as they got close enough for the ship’s shadow to wash over them.

“Wonderful! Brilliant. Just what we needed, kidnapping. You know, if these really are the same dudes who got to the Kerberos mission, I don’t think we’ll be coming back.”

Hunk sputters incredulously for a minute. “You were — you were just telling me to look on the bright side! And _you_ were the one who started the craziness! And dragged me along!”  
   
“Uh-uh, you admitted before that your decision to come along is your own! Besides, I thought we’d just be exploring, looking for clues, not… _this!”_ Lance exclaims with a wild gesture.

Pidge eyes the landing bay that they’re now basically on top of, and cuts in before Hunk can reply.

“If this is what it takes to find out even a little of what happened to my dad and brother… it’s worth it,” she says quietly.

The cockpit fills with silence once again as their ears fill with the screech of the craft landing.

__________

Korath strides onto the main ship’s deck, nodding at the saluting officers before stopping before the woman in charge, an imposing figure with webbed ears and scales trailing across their scalp.

He had left almost as soon as he had been dismissed by Zarkon (almost. More accurately, he had left once he had known which ship to head for -- a mid sized multipurpose cruiser, which, as the closest nonessential in the area, had been sent out to retrieve the rogue escape pod), viciously intent to excel at even such a menial assignment as this, even though most of his initial anger had cooled into annoyance and, even if it was only a little, curiosity.

But first, he wanted a more comprehensive summation of events.

The commander salutes, and Korath barks a sharp order.

“Report.”

“Sir, your arrival was far earlier than we had anticipated. The captives were only pulled aboard a relatively short time ago — the planet from which they hailed has not even completed a full axil rotation since we notified Zarkon of the presence of unfamiliar life forms on the rogue vessel, and still less since we managed to get them onboard this ship and off of that one.”

Korath’s unimpressed stare must communicate that this is not the information he wants, and the taller woman pauses before continuing, clearly deciding to move along.

“They’ve been put in a temporary holding cell, but we have not separated them or prepped them for interrogation let alone actually _preformed_ an inter-“

“I’ll see them now,” Korath noted curtly. The woman’s mouth clicks shut, and she nods, gesturing to two nearby soldiers.

“Lead the Prince to the cell!”

As Korath follows the two down the sharply turning corridors, he resolves that he’ll get to the bottom of whatever this is — and although currently it seems like a very shallow case of local curiosity investigating the unknown, there’s also the matter of a possible passenger having been aboard for the initial journey. And besides, it deserves thoroughness simply for having been given to him.

They turn a final corner and then halt in front of a closed door. Korath’s ears twitch as the sound of muffled… yelling…? emerges from within. His eyebrows raise — that’s impressive. The cells are soundproof, or at least close to it, and anything reaching those volumes must have some strong vocal chords.

His escorts salute again, turning to him expectantly.

“Dismissed.”

They pause only briefly, clearly hesitant about leaving the Prince unsupervised and unguarded, but they listen to common sense. Rather than even attempt to second guess him, they simply do as he asks.

Once they are out of sight, Korath faces the door once again. Whatever these beings know — if anything — he wants to be sure that it doesn’t go further than him. He needs control over the information flow regarding this situation, seeing that there seems to be so little of it, judging by the report he received. He peers through the small slit of a one-way window, checking the situation before he enters.

There are three beings inside, all of varying sizes but all adequately restrained, although not as much as he’d like. Their hands are bound behind them, and he takes a moment to observe them, noting that the smaller beings remind him somewhat of the long extinct Alteans. Their skin seems to come in similar shades of tan, and they have the same basic body and facial structure, although their ears are far smaller than that of both Alteans and Galrans, and rounded. They also lack any kind of markings.

The smallest one, the one in green with some kind of goggles in front of their face, seems to be the main source of the yelling, although the skinny, taller one is certainly doing his part as well. The largest one is out cold.

He reluctantly surpasses his sword and instead draws out a blaster, knowing it will be far more useful if he needs to subdue them. Silently sliding open the cell door, he steps inside.

__________

Eying their surroundings for the hundredth time, Pidge finally gives up in disgust. The cell is a bare cube of maybe 10 square feet, and the dull, dark metal walls are perfectly smooth, not a weakness to be found. Of course, she or Lance may have been able to find one if they’d been able to search with their hands — visual scanning can only do so much —but their hands are rather useless for such things when locked back by magic metal cuffs.

She shifts her hands uncomfortably. Initially, she’d held out hope for escape when the cuffs had first been drawn out, as soon as they’d been ushered out of the vessel with their arms in the air. They’d looked far too big for her hands, but as soon as they’d touched her skin, they moulded to fit her like a glove, irritatingly enough.

Like she said. Magic. Though she knew rationally there was probably some scientific explanation, she was far too on edge to ponder the matter now.

What was going on? Were they prisoners? They seemed like it. Her heart quickened as she thought of her brother and father.

Was this what had happened to them? Had this… ship just been hanging around the solar system all year? Could her family still be on board?

But… no, her rational mind insisted, even as her heart sank. The pod they’d ill-advisedly climbed into had left Earth’s atmosphere in like, 20 seconds, tops. If all these creatures’ ships moved so fast, it made no sense for them to just hang around.

But still, this was _something_. Aliens? Even listening to all the radio chatter, she’d never quite believed… And she knew more about them now, had seen their tech, had found them just hanging out not too far from Earth. Aliens just so happen to show up and kidnap some humans? Surely this was related to Kerberos.

She needed answers, and she was so close.

Lance mutters in irritation under his breath, his attention still focused on Hunk. Their jerk captors had dealt Hunk a sickening blow to the head simply to incapacitate what they had decided presented the largest physical threat.

Neither she nor Lance was very pleased about this.

 _At least they didn’t strip search us or try and force us into a prisoner's uniform or something,_ Pidge thought, pushing her glasses up her nose. That might have led to some uncomfortable questions from her teammates.

Honestly, at one point, as they been led past numerous cells to their own, she’d worried that they would try to force them into the rags she’d seen on the other prisoners. Luckily (or maybe not, in the long run. It did single them out and reduce the possibility of being ‘kept around’, as such), their captors had forgone the walls upon walls of what looked more like glass shelves than cells for their current, more isolated one, and they had then been abandoned to their own devices.

She’s jolted out of her thoughts when she hears a noise. Perking up, she begins to holler again when she realizes she’s hearing footsteps approaching.

“Hey! Hellooo! Someone there?”

Lance catches on quickly and adds his own two cents from his position beside Hunk’s prone form, yelling, “An explanation would be nice! Maybe a snack, too!”   Despite the levity of his words, his face is twisted into a snarl. The longer they’ve sat here, the more his anger has risen and the more his fear has faded, especially as Hunk hasn’t woken for at least a couple hours now.

She continues to yell, occasionally aided by Lance, encouraged when the footsteps pause outside their cell door — finally, all the others had simply walked past.

“Yo, seriously, can we talk?”

“Your hospitality stinks!”

“Can you even understand us?”

  “Your taste in decor also stinks!”

Finally, the door slides open. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lance tense, moving slightly more in front of Hunk’s motionless form from his previous position, where he had already been staunchly watching over him.

Another of their captors steps into the room, weapon first. Despite this, this is the first one they’ve seen without a helmet on, and therefore the first one they’ve actually gotten a good look at.

Pidge’s first impression is that he (she? It? They?) look like a tall, purplish-grey humanoid that borrowed some features from a bat — or maybe a chinchilla, if she tilts her head. She admits to herself a moment later, however, that this is mostly due to the two large ears that rise out of the dark — almost black — fluff of a full head of hair. Still as intimidatingly tall as his peers (although, she notes, he’s somewhat shorter and slighter in stature than the others they’ve seen), two glaring yellow eyes stare out of a blank face, pupil-less and — well, she had been about to say pitiless, but she realizes with a jolt that that simply isn’t true.

Although he doesn’t look like he’ll be offering them a tissue as he listens to their various sob stories anytime soon, he also looks like he might actually _listen_ to their sob story. He’s reserved, eying them calculatingly, but not with the outright malice, disregard or disdain that had been present in their previous treatment. Pidge won’t deny, however, that there is a small, suppressed degree of irritation emanating from him.

The silence stretches, and the figure continues to regard them silently from the doorway, pose relaxed but casually defensive should they attempt to attack. Pidge does actually mull this action over for a moment before she comes to her senses, realizing that she and Lance are restrained, and Hunk is unable to defend himself as he is even if she and Lance were stupid enough to tackle an armed opponent.

She deflates even as Lance takes another breath to resume his irreverent yelling.

“Please. We meant no harm or offense by boarding one of your vessels.”

__________

Lance blinks at Pidge’s sudden change in approach, and the frustratingly good looking purple-cat-alien, as Lance has so eloquently dubbed him, tilts his head, raising an eyebrow in a surprisingly familiar gesture.

That glimpse of— of— …well, not humanity, obviously, but personality, emotion, is enough for his anger to abate a little, and Lance blurts out even more.

“Listen. Just… listen, we don’t know who you are, we don’t know where we are or why — although I suppose boarding one of your ships is almost certainly why you’re holding us—“

“Korath.”

“— I mean, we’re just strangers that boarded what was obviously an alien vessel, which, wow, not smart in hindsight — wait, what?”

“Korath. You asked who I am. My name is Korath.”

“You can actually understand us?” Lance exclaims, somewhat shocked.

The second eyebrow joins the first.

“You were trying to speak to me thinking that I couldn’t understand you?” Something of a sneer graces his face, revealing uncomfortably sharpened teeth.

Somehow, this still manages to translate the muted amusement Lance can see in his strangely (though reservedly) expressive eyes.

Lance puffs out his chest, indignant.

“What else were we supposed to do?”

“Please.” Pidge repeats earnestly, desperately. “Have you ever come across beings like us before? Maybe ones that look close to me, if you could distinguish?”

There’s a beat of silence at the topic change.

__________

Korath stares in bemusement at the smallest of them. This… was not going as he expected. First, they speak more peaceably and diplomatically than many of his peers. Then, they attempt to explain themselves, only to devolve into a rant. Then, they rebuke him as an equal rather than submit to him as a superior, as he had thought all naturally lesser beings did instinctively. _Then_ , suddenly _he’s_ the one being interrogated?

“You should stick to a story, if not an angle. I really don’t know what to make of such poor attempts at lying, except that perhaps it may not… end well.”

The words filter through his translator, flat and bored. He doesn’t truly think they’re lying, of course. It would be far more suspicious if they had a perfect explanation, a singular reaction. However, he’s bewildered and, he’ll admit, a little intrigued by this strange request, and their response to his accusation and threat should be telling.

Once again, their reaction is not what he expects.

 _“Please,”_ the smaller one says, yet again. Honestly, is that the only word they know? Their voice is more desperate even than before, and they continue.

“We didn't intend to end up here — we were just trying to find out what happened to some people we know. They disappeared a year ago, please, _please_ , do you know _anything?”_

Now Korath is thoroughly thrown off balance. He’d never seen this kind of dedication before, this kind of, maybe… passion?… among civilians ( _lower lifeforms,_ no less, who were supposedly incapable of such things… but then, had he ever really believed that...?). They’ve ended up imprisoned in their attempts for these… people, and its doesn’t seem to have even crossed their minds that they should give up the search. He’s blatantly threatened them for speaking about it, and yet they continue to beg in the hopes that he may only know _something_ — in regards to the small one, at least.

He shouldn’t.

He really, really shouldn’t.

He squats down to their eye level — or as much as he can, with them also sitting.

“Explain.”

Immediately the small one launches into a prompt account that could pass as a mission report, never breaking eye contact with Korath, and the intensity of their gaze is startling.

“One rotation of our planet around our sun — a year — ago, a three man mission to explore a moon of one of the planets in our solar system went missing. There was no explanation, and they’ve never been heard from again. There’s no evidence of pilot error, or any miscalculation or accident of any kind occurring, and contact cut off abruptly and without warning. Two of the men… they… they were my father and brother, Sam and Matt Holt respectively.”

The skinny one cuts in here.

“The third was named Takashi Shirogane, Shiro for short,” they add quietly. “He was… a friend. Of a lot of people.”

The small one, having looked to the taller one as he spoke, turns back to lock eyes with Korath, goggles flashing.

“The moon is known as Kerberos, and therefore it’s known as the Kerberos mission.”

They falter here, before taking a deep breath and continuing.

“Considering what’s happened to us here, could… could your people have taken them? Do you know anything?”

Korath contemplates them. This was not what he came here to do. He came to investigate an unauthorised escape vehicle and those involved, not get embroiled in some other being’s petty problems.

But… they don’t seem petty.

Zarkon’s words come back to him, and his curiosity rises.

_“…it is… somewhat uncharted territories…”_

Somewhat.

The word comes out soft, breaking him out of his increasingly suspicious thoughts, not from the small one this time, but the other one, who has kept vigil by the big one’s side.

“Please.”

He grits his teeth… and sighs.

“I don’t personally know anything about such events, nor have I heard anything about them from others.”

The small one slumps back, a look of disbelieving heartbreak on their face.

Korath comes to a decision.

 _“But,”_ Korath continues, “I don’t know everything.” He’s rather shocked that such words have come out of his mouth in front of such beings, prisoners, for Empire’s sake. He should not be admitting any kind of weakness, especially not in front of inferiors. Lotor would never let him hear the end of it.

He can’t regret it, though, when the small one looks up hopefully and the taller one even huffs a small laugh.

He’s quiet for a tic, and then stands.

“I’ll… I’ll look into it. See what I can find out. You will remain detained under my care until this matter with the… vessel has been thoroughly investigated. I… cannot promise anything more than that.”

Keying open the door, he exits without turning to look back at their reaction and tries not to look like he’s fleeing.

  __________

Lance breathes a sigh as the alien leaves. He doesn’t know that he can trust him, but… it was better than nothing. At least someone had been nice to them. He felt slightly less like a hostage, a prisoner, now. With any luck, this would just be a misunderstanding they could ride out.

At that moment, a groan cut through the silence that had fallen and Hunk stirred. Pidge and Lance were on him in an instant.

“Hunk? Buddy, you with me?”

“Wha… Where… dude, what happened?”

“Long story,” Pidge answered softly.

“Short version is, we’ve been captured by fluffy purple space aliens, but a slightly nicer — and very attractive — one may be able to help us out. Might even find out what happened with the Kerberos mission,” Lance elaborated brightly.

“Who…?” Hunk mumbled, blinking dazedly as he slowly sat up and rubbed his head.

“Huh. He did tell us his name, but not much else. What was it again…? Koth? Krath?”

“Keith?” Hunk supplied bemusedly.

Lance snapped his fingers. “Close enough! That’s a name I’ll actually remember!”

Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Great. We find one possible, desperately needed ally in an awful situation, but we don’t know who they are, and we’ve immediately forgotten his name. Perfect.”

__________

Korath rubbed his temples agitatedly, sharpened claws digging into toughened flesh.

Well… he actually got more out of that than he initially believed, he realizes as he paces back in his assigned quarters. If there are others of their kind within the Galra Empire, other prisoners… that would explain why an escape pod would head for such a small, unknown, insignificant planet.

He’ll have to look into this. But… he already agreed to help before any of that had occurred to him. He hadn’t even told them his rank! Would they have spoken to him as they did if they had had some inkling as to his standing in the Empire? Of course, they seemed largely unaware that there even was an Empire — makes sense, considering they’ve come from a very backwater planet.

Still. ‘Prince’ is the sort of title that means something, no matter what its attached to. He could have shut down the entirely inappropriate way they’d talked to him in an instant.

But he didn’t.

He shakes himself, deciding not to dwell on it.

He has something he needs to look into.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I tried to tackle Pidge coming clean about her gender in this chapter, seeing as up to now none of the main characters know -- I wanted to get that particular secret out of the way. I tried to do so tactfully, and as much as I could mimicked how it happened in the show. That said, if anything about how I handled it is confusing or upsetting, please let me know, and tell me how I can fix it!
> 
> I also attribute the Galra some unemotional traits -- I know some of you see this as Keith being autistic, and I'm not dismissing that, nor am I intending to use it to support "why Keith might be Galra"; remember, traits like that can be interpreted multiple ways, as well as the fact that this is an AU, and I just think that it's a mentality the Galra would have.
> 
> But yay, I finally got the italics to work!
> 
> All the rest of that aside, I hope you enjoy!

First things first. He issues a transfer order, getting the three…

Hm.

He should probably find out what they call themselves as a species, if not their individual names. Do such creatures even have names?

Regardless, he gets them moved to the smaller craft he’d arrived on. He needs to get them back… well, not ‘home,’ (Galra move, do not get attached, do not have _homes_ ), but back to the main ship he grew up on; Zarkon’s ship. He is not going to continue this ‘mission’ on this limited craft, and, well. He’ll admit to himself he wants to keep a close eye on the prisoners, doesn’t want them in the kind of cells that just anyone can access.

What he won’t admit to himself is why.

But to do so is practical — he doesn’t need others sticking their noses in this investigation. Sure, it doesn’t seem like they have any useful information to give, but better safe than sorry.

And so the captives are escorted from their cell, marched through the corridors, and dumped in yet another temporary holding cell. They grumble and attempt halfheartedly to pull away, but when they pass Korath, observing the procession from the transport ship’s entrance, the two he spoke with fall immediately silent.

He notes with amusement the somewhat guarded looks the nearby soldiers shoot him at this. They probably assume he garnered that reaction for a very different reason than the truth.

The truth, however, actually makes him more uncomfortable. He hasn’t done anything for them to award him even the minimal trust required for them to stop protesting their treatment once they realize it’s at his hands. Although, he rationalizes, if they really were as desperate to find the people they were looking for as they seemed, they would go through with anything that offered them a possible answer.

The taller one leans back to the big one, the one he hadn’t talked to, and Korath’s ears twitch almost unnoticeably as they pick up the quietly muttered “that’s him.”

The big one, now apparently clued in to his identity, scrutinizes him unabashedly, meeting his stare with a coolly defiant narrow-eyed gaze.

Huh.

Apparently the whole species was brashly insolent.

He lets it pass.

  
__________

The new cell is pretty much the same as the old one, with the notable improvement of a platform jutting out from the wall, which Hunk assumes intends to be a bed.

He’s currently using it as something of a couch, leaning back against the wall. His head is still incredibly sore, and he’s bundled up his vest behind his head to act as a cushion.

The endless pounding of a particular sore spot at the side of his skull may or may not cause some less than charitable feelings towards their captors, and he has been questioning the others near non-stop about “Keith.”

“Seriously though, why would he offer us any kind of help?”

“For the last time man, I don’t know! I’m not suggesting we jump off a cliff for the guy, he just seemed… nice? Nicer than the others, at least.” Lance groans and, out of habit, tries to gesture dramatically.

Pidge swats him for his trouble.

“Stop moving! I’m trying to get a good look at these things.” He (or they? Or maybe she? Hunk will admit that despite everyone else’s assumptions, he’s not entirely sure what Pidge prefers… ‘they’ will do for now, though) leans closer to the cuffs, fascinated. “They almost look like they’re alive. They just… move. Change. The glow almost has the rhythm of a heartbeat. There’re no imperfections in the metal for a key, or release, or adjustments or anything. It’s…”

“Weird?” Hunk supplies.

“Yeah, totally weird. Can I move now?”

“Stop whining. What else are you gonna do while _trapped in a cell?”_

“Not impersonate a statue?”

In reply, Pidge shoves him down with their shoulder. Lance yelps as he collapses to the floor, and Hunk and Pidge watch for a couple minutes as he struggles to sit up without the use of his hands before Pidge sighs.

“This is sad.”

They lean down, allowing Lance to lean against them as he manoeuvres himself upright. As soon as he can look Pidge in the eye again, he pouts.

“That was uncalled for.”

Pidge rolls their eyes, not deigning to respond.

Hunk smirks. “Don’t worry Lance, I still love you.”

 _“Thank you,_ Hunk.”

“But seriously, this ‘Keith’ dude. Did he even say why he came to visit us in the first place?”

Lance immediately releases a theatrical groan. “Dude! Let it go!”

Hunk throws his arms up (or tries, he concedes with a painful wince) defensively. “I’m sorry for being suspicious of seemingly high-ranking captors that visit their _kidnapped victims_ only to offer them help out of the supposed kindness of their heart!”

“I’ve been telling you man, it wasn’t like that!”

“Hey!” Pidge cuts in between them with a deadly glare. “Shut it, both of you. This is the best lead I’ll ever have, and if this guy can give me _anything_ , I can stay in a cell as long as necessary.”

Lance looks away awkwardly, and Hunk lets them fall into silence.

For a moment, at least.

“But what kind of aliens can understand English, anyway?”

This, he knows, Lance can get on board with.

“Yeah! And what kind of alien also _speaks it?”_

Pidge doesn’t miss a beat.

“The kind that has a translator.”

Another voice joins the fray.

“That would be about right.”

__________

Korath watches, wincing at their shrieks, as the beings all spin, regarding him with round eyed stares. They really _were_ loud creatures, weren’t they?

The skinny one presses a hand to his chest, slumping slightly as he relaxes.

“Dude! Don’t _do_ that!”

Korath’s eyebrows knit together. “Do what?”

“You _know_ what!”

The Prince continues to stare at him impassively.

_“Really?”_

The small one takes pity on him and explains. “Don’t sneak up on us and try to give us heart attacks.”

Well, that doesn’t help. What in the quiznack is a heart attack?

Sensing his confusion, the skinny one sighs, waving a hand. “Never mind. But seriously, how did you _do_ that?”

Korath is getting frustrated now, and snaps back, “Do _what?”_

“Enter the room completely silently, without even the door making a noise, to the extent that none of us notice until you speak?”

 _What?_ He hadn’t been anywhere near that quiet.

He snorts. “No wonder your species has such strong vocal chords, if your hearing is that bad,” he mutters.

The big one raises an eyebrow. Finally deciding to join the conversation from where he had been silently observing the scene, he shrewdly comments, “That would explain why your voice is on the hushed side. Your people used to quiet tones, huh?”

“Quieter tones than you? Apparently.”

For a moment longer, the big one regards him. Korath stares cooly back. After a tic, the being breaks out into a warm smile, and the Prince can’t help the feeling that he’s passed some sort of test.

“Keith, huh? I’m Hunk, I don’t think we got introduced last time, with me being knocked out and all.”

He looks suddenly completely unimposing, laid back, the kind of character that would fade into the background with a genial wave — nothing like the discerning presence he had been just before.

Korath makes a note to look out for him.

Filing that information away for later, he contemplates the matter of his apparently broken translator. _Keith?_ What was a Keith? Was that some kind of greeting? A verbal tick, perhaps? If he is to be conversing more with these people, he needs to be able to effectively communicate

On that note…

“Actually, no introductions of any sort occurred during our previous, uh, meeting, barring giving my name.”

Hunk blinked. “Oh. Well, um, in that case, the taller guy in the oversized jacket is-”

“I can speak for myself, thank you.” The skinny one sniffs, before picking up where ‘Hunk’ left off.

“I’m Lance, and the small boy over there is called Pidge.”

Hunk mutters a sulky, _‘now who’s speaking for others,’_ but Korath pays him no mind, instead scrutinizing the other member of their little group.

The small one, Pidge, had jolted slightly at the word ‘boy.’

Lying to him already? That was quick. And on such an odd topic, too.

Brow furrowing, Korath asks, “Are you quite sure of that?”

__________

Pidge cringes. Oh, dear lord, why. She did _not_ need this right now. How could an _alien_ who seemed so oblivious to the basics of social interaction call her out on _this?_

“Huh? Sure of what?” Lance blinks in confusion.

“The small one. Are you sure about their gender?”

“Uh, _yes_. I’m pretty sure we know our own teammates _gender.”_

Pidge steels herself. Better now than never. Besides, if she lets this pass, they’ll be extra pissed off when they inevitably do find out.

“Well… About that. I… may be more female than I’ve led you to believe.”

Lance’s mouth drops open. _“What?_ Oh, come on, you're kidding me.”

Pidge avoids his gaze.

Lance shrieks. “Excuse me? Why did we _have your gender wrong?”_

Fiddling with her sleeves, Pidge nervously begins to explain. “Um… I… may have been a bit headstrong in trying to find my family when they first went missing. Long story short, in order to continue the search, I had to make sure I wouldn’t be recognised. So… hello Pidge, goodbye Katie! Oh yeah, by the way, my birth name’s Katie, but I like Pidge fine, Pidge was actually my nickname when I was younger, so I guess it’s kinda my name as well, and— “

Hunk cuts off her rambling. “Pidge, it’s okay.” He gives her a gentle look of understanding. “To be honest, I kinda wondered. I mean, I knew Matt had a sister, but I’d never heard of a brother or other sibling, and you never seemed comfortable when people called you ‘he,’ so… But, anyway, it’s cool — no matter what pronouns you’re using, you're still you. I’m glad you told us. It clears up a lot.”

Lance shakes his head, blinking several times, before chuckling awkwardly. “Yeah, I mean. It’s not a big deal. Well, it kinda is, but only the not knowing part, not the… whole… gender difference… thing…” He rubs the back of his neck, giving a sheepish smile. “Like Hunk said. It’s cool, Pidge.”

Her chest feels tight, and she has to blink several times when her sight distorts slightly.

“Thanks, guys,” she says a little roughly, taking her glasses off only to realize that they aren’t the cause of her blurry vision. Sniffing a little, she quickly wipes her eyes with her sleeves in embarrassment, the fabric dragging and absorbing the excess liquid.

Looking back up, she gives a watery grin, which both her teammates return cheerfully.

An awkward cough comes from behind them.

“Yes, well, I’ll just… go…”

She turns to see ‘Keith’ (good enough, he hadn’t protested the name), who was just yesterday (hours ago? She’s not sure) such an imposing figure, uncomfortably shift, seeming to not quite know what to do with himself, and turn to the doorway.

“Wait!”

Pausing, he turns only his head towards her.

“Why… was there a reason you came here in the first place…?” She can’t help the hopeful tinge to her words.

“Oh. Yes, I just came to inform you of your current situation.”

She hides her flash of disappointment, instead silently urging him to continue.

He straightens and turns back to face them, clearly relieved to be back in his element.

“As I mentioned previously, you are currently under my… jurisdiction. I am in charge of investigating the matter of the unauthorized pod you found yourselves on, and as such, I am moving you to a location which will better allow me to perform my duties.”

He pauses here, and his whole demeanor suddenly becomes infinitely more solemn, as if to impress upon them the weight of his next words. Pidge tenses slightly.

“Emperor Zarkon’s warship — the head of the fleet.”

He name drops with an air of finality, as if he expects the last comment to mean something to them.

It doesn’t.

Well, except ‘warship’ — that pretty much banished any doubt as to the friendliness levels of these aliens. Emperor too; that said something about governing.

Zarkon, though?

“O…kay…” Hunk looks as clueless as Pidge feels.

She hears Keith mutter something that sounds suspiciously like _‘well that answers that’_ under his breath before continuing, his frame easing slightly as he moves into lighter territory.

“I would also like to know the name of your species and planet of origin. I’ll need to know if I’m to be able to look into anything.”

Lance is the one to answer this time, opening his mouth in an immediate reaction of surprise.

“Oh! Right. We call ourselves humans, at least in English, and our planet’s Earth.”

Here, he clears his throat before pushing on with poorly disguised curiosity.

“On that note… what’re you guys called?”

Although he initially seems thrown, Keith’s expression, on alien features though it may be, quickly flashes with mirth at the inquiry before becoming blank once again.

“Throughout the galaxy we are known as the Galra.”

“That’s… nice.”

They fall into uncomfortable silence.

Keith clears his throat again. “If you’ll allow me, I can remove the cuffs. At this point they’re largely unnecessary, and you’ll probably be needing the use of your hands, long term.”

He looks to them — as if they would refuse — and they all nod eagerly.

Once again slipping into annoyance, clearly baffled by such visual communication, Keith mutters, “I’ll take that as consent,” and draws out a minuscule device. He presses it, and instantly Pidge rejoices in the use of her hands as she feels the lack of the cuff’s pressure.

Lance in turn whoops, and tosses his cuffs at the wall with a giddy exclamation of “Seyonara, suckers!”

When Keith’s ears flatten back, Lance sheepishly walks over to pick them up, collecting Pidge and Hunk’s along the way.

He hands them over with an awkward “Thanks,” before retreating to sit next to Hunk.

Keith remains impassive for another tic before once again turning for the door.

“We’ll talk again on our arrival-”

Lance recovers from his embarrassment quickly enough when it seems their only source of information is about to leave.

“Hey, yeah, about that — how long will that take, exactly? Because if we’re going to be in here for any significant length of time, I’d just like to point out that whoever prepared this cell needs to learn how to count.”

He gestures to the… platform (any title above that is generous), of which there is notably only one.

Although Keith’s expression doesn’t change, Pidge gets the distinct impression he’s amused by this. Furthermore, in a display of playful attitude that Pidge honestly doesn’t expect, his lips quirk.

“I’m sure, with how bored you all seem, you could use _some_ surprises.”

He turns to the door, tossing an additional cheerful remark.

“Food should be provided shortly.”

__________

Hunk’s mood instantly lifts at the mention of food. Sure, it’ll be alien prison food, but still, he hasn’t eaten in at least a day now.

His so-called ‘friends,’ of course, have to take away any happiness from his life.

“What if the food they send us isn’t edible for humans? I mean, it seems like this guy wants us around, so if he _wanted_ us dead I’m sure he could just shoot us, but accidental poisoning isn’t out of the question. He didn’t even _ask_ about nutritional requirements.”

At Pidge’s comment, Hunk sours again. “Oh yeah.” He flops down on the platform dejectedly.

Lance ignores both of them, his mind clearly having taken a completely different track.

“Okay, to hell with what I said before about him being nice. He’s an _asshole.”_

Hunk lifts his head up to peer at his pacing friend, who, he notices, seems to be celebrating the use of his liberated hands by returning to dramatic gestures.

“I actually like him.”

Lance gapes at him, his features quickly morphing into an expression of betrayal.

“What?! You _like_ him? You wouldn’t shut the hell up about how shifty he was before!”

“Yeah, well, now I’ve met him. You’re right; he’s cool. Chill, man.”

“Then it’s decided.” Pidge firmly asserts over the top of Lance’s spluttering. “We’ll follow this guy’s lead as our best bet, both for our safety and any info we can get our hands on.”

“Sure.”

“No, _not_ sure!”

“Do you really want to take another course of action?”

Lance sulks. “…No.”

Pidge throws their (no, her) hands up in the air. “We reach an agreement. Will wonders never cease?”

At that moment, a sizeable bowl of what looks like green… slime…? is shoved through the flap at the base of the door, which then immediately locks again.

They all stare at it.

Screw this. Hunk’s hungry.

“Pass me the bowl, would you?”

Pidge eyes him dubiously, but nevertheless slowly reaches for it, handing it to him as if it’s poison.

Which, fair enough — it could be. Unlikely, though, and at this point he doesn’t care.

Hunk takes the bowl.

Lance pulls a face. “Gross, dude! You really gonna eat that?”

  In response, he shoves a handful in his mouth — and gags.

Pidge and Lance immediately spring into action, starting forward with considerable alarm, but he waves them off.

“That,” he pants, “has got to be one of the worst things I have ever tasted. These ‘Galra’ will not be winning any culinary awards any time soon.”

He pauses.

“Probably means it’s healthy though.”

He takes another handful.

Pidge and Lance look to him with twin expressions of horror.

“Help yourself. I have a feeling you won’t be needing to share that,” Pidge mutters.

__________

As soon as Korath turns a corner, out of sight, he groans and thumps his head against the wall. He did it _again_. He didn’t shut them down, didn’t assert his authority — hell, they were actually worse this time round!

They showed little to no indication that they were prisoners and him their captor, let alone that he was a superior species _(yeah, right, he’s never quite bought that one himself),_ let alone that he was a _Prince_ — admittedly, they weren’t aware of the last one. He suspects they don’t know the second, either.

He had gotten a bit of a kick out of the skinny one — Lance — asking his species. _That_ was something he didn’t get everyday.

Truly, though… do they even really know the first? He didn’t exactly help matters by removing their restraints, but honestly, they had been some of the most co-operative prisoners he’d ever come across, and it’s not like they could do anything even without them — plus, they had to eat sooner or later.

If he’s honest with himself, that little… emotional display of theirs had also made him feel very out of place. Galra were not nearly so open or expressive, and seeing such things unnerved him. Most emotion was weakness — hence why he had such a good mask — for Galra. Outside of private settings, if you displayed it, more than anything else, it was an assertion of authority, as if to say _‘I can show you weakness, and you can’t do anything to exploit it’._ But these… humans did not seem to treat it as such.

At least he knew that the small one was a ‘she,’ now.

But he shouldn’t be so easily thrown off — shouldn’t let their current attitude persist. He knows his father would not be any happier about his ‘attitude’ if he was to bear witness to Korath's utter failure to lord his superiority over those who were vulnerable, as Zarkon himself loved to do.

Whatever. He needs to leave that aside for now.

More importantly, leave aside the fact that it’s nice to be treated as an equal for once.

His only real “equal” in standing is his brother, Lotor; everyone else is either a superior (a very short list) or an inferior, at least according to his father. But even Lotor acts like a superior most of the time, dangling the fact that he’s older over him. Sometimes Korath wonders if he’s overcompensating for his mixed heritage.

In all honesty, that mixed heritage had been one of the reasons why Korath largely disregarded genetics when it came to a person, although he sometimes mentally tried to assert such teachings on species’ hierarchy to appease his father. In personality, though, Korath thought Lotor was more of a full blooded Galra than he, the actual full blooded Galra, was. At least, in terms of what he was told a Galra should be.

Anyway.

Back to his… _mission_. He’s still disdainful of giving it that title, but oddly, his resentment has vanished.

Yet another thing not to dwell on.

Now that he knows what species to look for, he’ll need unrestricted access to the prison records — impossible to do from anywhere but Zarkon’s own base. It’s an overwhelming task to even _contemplate_ trawling through millions of names, but once again, he’s strangely glad to have to do it himself. He doesn’t trust anyone else to handle this matter.

For slightly different reasons than he had before.

Once again, he pretends not to notice.

Now that the transport craft has taken off, they should arrive in a few parsecs.

He’ll need to give a good pitch to his father about why he should be granted access to the restricted data banks, as well as why he’s keeping the… humans around, instead of transferring them to one of the main prisons (he can't do that, don’t think about why). He'll need to tell his father that they have nothing to do with the escaped craft beyond curiosity — otherwise, they’ll endure some less than pleasant experiences for the sake of information they don’t seem to have.

He cricks his neck with a sigh, moving to go to the observation room.

Over the years, both he and Lotor have had a lot of practice altering the truth for their father. Keith can’t quite lie, but he has learned what’s necessary to be very convincing.

_Why is he doing this for them, though? It’s not like after this he’ll be able to just let them go. Helping them is futile._

He banishes that train of thought. One thing at a time. He said he’d help, and if that requires not being completely honest with his father… he has disturbingly few problems with it.

He still needs to prepare, though. He doesn’t know how Zarkon will measure what constitutes ‘failure’ for this particular test.

__________

“You want to carry out a prolonged interrogation on unfamiliar beings simply for the _possibility_ that they will know _something_ useful, or that their planet _might_ be of worth to the Empire?”

Zarkon leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “You want to spend _your_ precious time, which you often resent ‘wasting,’ getting your hands dirty just to make sure the Empire has no possible information gaps?”

Once again, Korath is thankful for his ability to remain outwardly impassive. He manages a tight nod, commenting only, “Like you said. Now that my training has largely finished, I need something to occupy my time, and serving the Empire, even in a small way, is a worthy cause.”

The throne room fills with silence.

Korath tries very hard not to fidget.

Abruptly, Zarkon throws his head back and roars with laughter.

It’s very hard for Korath to not recoil at the sound.

“Who _are_ you?” Zarkon exclaims jovially. “If I had known getting you off base was all that was needed to fix your… discipline issues, I would have done so long ago!” He slaps his arm rest with mirth, before quieting slightly, though his good humor remains.

“Come here, my son.”

Hesitantly (no, not hesitantly, Galra were not hesitant, Princes were not hesitant, and more importantly, Zarkon’s _son_ was not hesitant) (he adjusts his stride, making it more purposeful, unafraid), Korath approaches his father.

“Here.”

He hands Korath two small chips.

“The larger one of those is to give you and you alone unimpeded access to a remote cell, far away from anyone else on base. It is in a corridor which will henceforth be accessible only to you — and me, of course.”

Korath examines the larger chip, but it looks no different to others he has used for cell access.

“The smaller one…” Here, Zarkon smiles conspiratorially. “That will give you access to the complete data banks — hopefully, you will find what you need, although I must warn you, many prisoners do, shall we say, _slip through the cracks._ The guards may not even have reported the one you look for missing. You will have a hard time distinguishing between which ones have… found their purpose elsewhere, and the actual escapee. And believe me, there will be only one.”

Zarkon’s face grows stormy.

“We cannot let our reputation slide, yes? Don’t want others getting… ideas.”

He calms himself once more.

“But, of course, with your new found faith in our Empire, I am sure you will preform your duties with flying colors.”

He gives what on anyone else would pass for a smile.

Taking the second chip, Korath stands, salutes, and turns on his heel, showing no indication of the cold sweat that has broken out under his uniform.

__________

“Wow, upgrade!”

To be entirely honest, Lance himself is unsure how sarcastic he’s being.

While their new cell (man, is this the third one? What the hell has happened to his life…) is a notable step up, with three actual beds along with a sink and other necessary… facilities (hidden behind a wall that can turn from opaque to transparent at the push of a button, should their captor feel the need), and is notably cleaner and high quality, that’s about it.

It’ still, y’know, a _cell_.

While he’s on the train of thought…

He turns to their escort, none other than Keith himself, as he unlocks the last pair of cuffs from Pidge’s wrists

They’d had to have them be put back on as they were escorted from cell to cell yet again — though this time Keith had dismissed the other guards, simply doing it all himself.

“How long will we have to stay here, exactly?”

Looking up, Keith’s face, which Lance only now realizes had been relaxed, turns to stone.

“You’re captives of the Galra Empire. You trespassed on one of our ships. You _can’t_ leave.”

Even though a part of him was expecting it, at the confirmation Lance’s mouth drops open.

“What, no trial? Nothing? Surely we weren’t trespassing if _your_ ship was on _our_ planet.”

Keith meets his gaze and says nothing.

As the realization of his situation and all it implies sinks in, his insides turn to ice.

Lance proceeds to have a mini freakout.

“No! Man, you are the biggest douche I’ve ever met!” He spins, pointing an accusing finger. “I told you he was an asshole, Hunk!”

Then, he seems to collapse in on himself, dragging a hand down his face. “My looks will be wasted! I can’t never see my family again!” With a wail, he finishes.

_“I’m too young to spend my life in space!”_

Hunk raises a hand. “Then… um, _why_ exactly did you join Galaxy Garrison again?”

Lance glares venomously at him.

_“Not. Helping.”_

Pidge ignores them both, facing Keith and looking slightly hurt.

“You said you’d help.”

Keith actually growls at this, which makes them all stiffen.

“I said I’d look into the matter of those you were searching for. I said, even then, _I can’t promise anything more._ Despite what you may think, I do not have complete control over the matters of the Empire. Captured aliens do not go free.”

There’s a silence.

“Then… there’s no chance we’ll be leaving here.”

Keith turns to Hunk, and he seems to deflate.

“In my experience? No.” He murmurs.

Lance doesn’t know what to say.

Wait. Yes he does.

“You suck, Keith.”

__________

Galra didn’t feel guilt.

(Except he couldn’t find it in himself to do so much as correct his name)

(At least now he knew his translator wasn’t broken.)

__________

“What do we do?” Hunk asks, looking subdued. “Does this change our plan?”

Pidge looks him in the eye firmly.

“Not really. We’ll still follow this guy’s lead, see what he can tell us. We just have an additional step.”

She lowers her voice.

“Escape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parsecs are actually a measure of distance, but if using them as a measure of time is good enough for Star Wars, it's good enough for me! Assume that the journey takes a couple of hours. No new characters yet, but Allura and Coran should show up fairly soon. Shiro may actually take a little longer, but not by too much. 
> 
> I've actually updated this earlier than I intended, and I'm not gonna lie, it was largely because of the feedback I got! Seriously, it was really motivating, and meant a lot.
> 
> Like I said, please let me know if you were upset by the Pidge-gender-thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter kinda deals with a breach of privacy? I mean, they are prisoners. Still, as an intensely private person myself, I felt a little uncomfortable writing it, so just a warning in case anyone will be upset by that. It's only minor, but I suppose that's subjective.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much to those who have responded to the story, and everyone else for reading! Constructive criticism is appreciated, so don't hesitate if you want to leave any!

Korath stares with steadily rising irritation at the holo screen.

Nothing.

Nothing at all came up when he cross-referenced all the prisoners names — _all of them_ — with the word ‘human.’

Alright.

He himself had to ask for the name. It’s not like anyone’s likely to be _familiar_ with these beings.

He tries again, using the key word ‘Earth.’

Still nothing.

He bites back a snarl.

He enters the names of the people he’s searching for, one by one.

Sam Holt.

Matt Holt.

Takashi Shirogane.

Nothing.

_Fine._

Prisoners rarely went by names anyway. He has no way of knowing what numbers they might have been assigned, though.

He enters the co-ordinates of ‘Earth.’

_Nothing._

A snarl does work its way out of his throat this time, and he has to stop and take several deep breaths before continuing

Different approach. He doesn’t _want_ to have to go through each individual prison file one by one, but he’s running out of options.

He finds his way to a complete list, and sorts it in order of priority, resigning himself to several boring cycles. At least this way he can get more up to date with the political workings of the Empire — who’s considered an important prisoner and why can be very telling, and although Zarkon may think he doesn't care, he has enough self preservation to make sure he knows what's going on around him.

The list loads, and he stops. _That’s… weird._

It seems to have been edited. It starts with the third most important prisoner.

He knows because he _knows_ that prisoner. He used to visit her until…

Until Zarkon found out.

Despite the punishment he received for his visits, he didn’t regret them. They gave him something he knew Lotor would never have.

Zarkon hadn’t wanted her poisoning him with ideas, no matter who she was to him.

She hadn’t. She wouldn’t even tell him _why_ she had been imprisoned.

What she _had_ done was bitterly rant for days about being only third most important prisoner. Gone from the top (or at least second to the top, Zarkon was always at the top), and then not even at the top of the bottom.

He’d never wondered who was at the top of the bottom.

Not until now.

Furiously, he digs around for any extra names.

His clearance isn’t high enough.

_Really?_

Thoroughly pissed off now, he enters a code.

Lotor’s code.

He doesn’t think his brother knows he knows it, but if he doesn’t, Korath doesn’t want to tip him off with frequent use. This was only the third time he had used it.

He has a feeling it will be worth it.

Finally, when the list comes through, ordered by priority, the one he knows isn’t misplaced at the number one spot.

Instead, there are two cell numbers at the very top of the screen.

Nothing else.

No information. No background.

That in itself wasn’t uncommon. A lot of the prisoners were nobodies, lowlifes. Sometimes their crimes were nothing more than “not being Galra.”

_Hm, that sounds like three beings you know._

He ignores that thought.

The point is, that was common because those who had no background information were not important. These two were at the top of the screen. And consecutive numbers — apparently they had something to do with each other.

The most important prisoners, out of all the ones they held (and he knew, that was a _lot)_ , and there was no information on them whatsoever.

He tries to expand the files.

“Access Denied.”

Great. More he wasn’t being told. And apparently, more his brother wasn’t being told. “Unrestricted Access” his ass.

He could let this go. This wasn’t relevant to his investigation. It was unlikely that the humans he was looking for were the _most important prisoners in the entire Galran Empire._

He also didn’t have to agree to help some worthless (he has an odd internal reaction to that word, rebuking it even as he thinks it) captives find their loved ones.

He jots down the cell numbers.

__________

Pidge sighs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. Should she cut it? She’s actually grown quite fond of her shorter hair, but she also liked being able to tie it back.

She wonders how her brother dealt with having his fringe in his face all the time.

_No, don’t go back to thinking about that._

If she’s being honest, as much as she doesn’t regret any course of action that will give her answers, she’s getting frustrated just waiting around. After actively searching for a _year_ , she now has to sit on her hands and wait for someone else who she doesn’t know she trusts to do the work for her.

It’s… she doesn’t quite know, but she doesn’t like not being able to contribute.

Speaking of Keith…

“Do you think he’s gonna come back?” Hunk asks a couple (she’s saying days, but she doesn’t really know) later.

Lance kicks his feet idly over the edge of his bed. “Dunno. Think we pissed him off.”

“I think he actually feels guilty.”

Hunk lifts his head to look at Pidge. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugs. “He seemed… upset. But not because we asked about our possible release. It was like he was angry at the answer he had to give, and was angry he felt bad about it.”

“Wow.” Lance flops a hand over his eyes. “Sounds like he has severe emotional constipation.”

Pidge snorts.

Hunk clears his throat.

“So.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow.

“So?”

“What do you have so far on… phase three?”

“Phase three?” Lance looks affronted, lifting his hand to squint at Hunk. “Since when did we decide on phases?”

Tuning out what she knows will be another petty argument spurred on by boredom, Pidge casts her gaze around the room. Hunk’s right; she doesn’t have anything else to do right now, and she doesn’t want to spend her life here any more than Lance.

She wants to escape, but before anything else, she needs to know what she’s dealing with.

There isn’t much to say.

It’s yet another bare room, three beds, and a bathroom (which is actually kinda generous, now that she thinks about it). Lighter metal walls, still smooth and lacking any kind of imperfection.

Except…

  “We’re on phase one right now, being in this cell.” Hunk explains patiently. “Phase two is actually getting the info from Keith. Can you guess what phase three is?”

Pidge stands, circling the room leisurely, trying to pass it off as boredom. Idly, she casts her gaze around to one of the top corners of the room, making sure that her look doesn’t linger.

There.

“Yeah, yeah, I know what phase three _is,_ I just want to know why it’s a _phase?”_

Pidge clears her throat. “Well, if you want an update, listen carefully about what I have to say and don’t show any reaction, you got me?”

Confused, Lance and Hunk look to her and nod.

“So far, I’ve figured out that there’s a camera in this room.”

__________

Back in his more usual quarters, Korath stares at the view screen, watching the three humans laze about. There’s a single camera in their cell, which only he can view — aside from Zarkon, of course.

In Zarkon’s ship, there are cameras _everywhere_. The only place there _aren’t_ are the private quarters of the higher ups, and even then, there are cameras surrounding the outside and guards posted at all the entryways. The only exception in terms of the guards is Haggar, and he suspects that that's only due to the fact that her rooms are practically crawling with druid magic — enough to substitute for ten guards. _He's_ lucky that Zarkon granted him use of a cell without guards. Even he and _Haggar_ still has to have cameras outside, nevertheless. In fact, the only places he knows to be absent of cameras are the mystery cells and the surrounding area.

He knows this because attempting to check the cameras in order to get a clue regarding the mystery prisoners was the first thing he'd done.

That there were no cameras to check doesn't help his suspicion any.

He’s glad, at least, that the human’s cell doesn’t have a microphone.

He feels weird enough about visual surveillance, let alone eavesdropping on their conversations. He tries not to watch them too much; he just gives a glance every now and then, making sure they’re still there and still alive.

He _should_ be checking up in person, at least for appearances sake. Zarkon thinks he’s interrogating them. But he can’t make himself face them.

 _Pathetic,_ he snorts softly to himself. He's really this nervous about facing three human prisoners. He barely knows them! What’re they gonna do, give him disappointed looks?

He mentally cringes at the image.

Okay, this is ridiculous. He’s been the one bringing them food (though they don’t know it; he just slides it through the flap in the door), he’s the one who’s in charge of them, and he’s the reason they’re in as good a position as they _are_. He shouldn’t feel bad about not being able to do more.

He does.

But that’s not something he needs to ponder right now. What he needs is to figure out his next move. He’s been steadily sorting through the prisoner list, but he holds little hope that it will yield anything. Especially as he couldn’t rely on all the names actually being there.

It would be just his luck if the humans he was looking for were some of the few who weren’t.

He doesn’t yet know what to do about that.

But…

He was going about this wrong. He’d been blindsided by looking for _humans_ — what he needs to do is look for an _escapee_.

He could work in reverse. Start with the names that _weren’t_ there.

He was currently working under the assumption that one of them may have escaped. If they hadn’t, then his investigation was finished. But if they _had_ , they should have disappeared off the list a few cycles ago, and been replaced by someone else.

While the prisons were uncaring enough that disappearances often went unreported, they were pressed for space enough that they would immediately place someone else in the empty cell — and the changeover would then be catalogued.

He’d need to find a list of recent cell changeovers — from all sections of the main prison on base, he realized with a groan, since they weren’t sure where this escape pod had come from beyond ‘Zarkon’s ship’, and they’d only caught on _after_ it had reached its destination — and look into the ones where a prisoner disappeared from one cell, and didn’t reappear in another.

It seems that it was assumed that any missing prisoners had been… taken by someone with authority (and Keith should probably find out what that meant, exactly), as even if prisoners ‘slipped through the cracks,’ they were shot when seen out of their cell without an escort, and there really was no way for them to leave the ship — the only way off that they had access to was by escape pod, and multiple decks, as well as those in charge, were immediately notified when one was deployed.

If it's deployment wasn’t scheduled in, then, well… Cases like this one came up.

Except, not exactly. Unscheduled escape pod departures usually ended in death for those on board — they were destroyed on sight.

But this one… this one hadn’t come up as unscheduled.

Well, it had, but only after the fact — only several parsecs later.

Someone had managed to delay tripping the automatic alarms. That would take some impressive skills with machinery…

Well, he has somewhere to start. Although there’s _also_ the matter of the two top priority mystery prisoners.

He can’t just let it go; he’s getting incredibly sick of being left out of the loop, and also possibly too curious for his own good. Since cameras as a way of gaining info was out, only physical investigation remained as an option. But if he wasn’t granted access to their files, he doubts he’ll be able to get anywhere _close_ to their cells.

However, he knows of two people who have access anywhere.

He’s nowhere near suicidal enough to try and steal Zarkon’s access chip, father or not.

Haggar, however… he knows she has several, on account of her wanting one near her at all times — she’s not the kind to not have backups.

What she never understood, however, was the reason Zarkon only has one.

If you have several, they tended to go missing in much the same way prisoners seem to.

Mind made up, he stands, and sighs. If he’s making a… trip… to one of Haggar’s hiding places, he may as well go and talk to the humans.

He’ll have to sooner or later, and they should know what’s going on, in regards to the search for their… people.

At that moment, as he glances at the screen, he notices the small one _(Pidge)_ gesturing jerkily with her head, in a way she probably thinks is subtle.

She’s gesturing right at the camera.

The extremely well hidden, disguised camera, one of the most well camouflaged ones in the entire Empire.

His brow furrows. _How did she…?_

Well. Now he has a conversation opener.

__________

“How are we going to get out _now?”_ Hunk moans.

“Shh! Don’t say things like that, Hunk!” Lance hisses.

Pidge is getting annoyed with constantly being the voice of reason.

“Guys. If they can hear us, we’re already screwed. I first _mentioned_ the possibility of escape in here; they surely know already, bringing it up more isn’t gonna do anything. And did you forget that whole thing about _not reacting?”_

“Maybe we could pass it off as a joke?”

Pidge lets off a loud groan.

And gets her wish. Lance decides to actually be sensible for once, continuing her train of thought.

“But Pidge is right; _if_. We don’t know that they _can_ hear us. From my experience, surveillance doesn't usually bother with audio feed.”

Hunk squints. “What experience?” He says slowly.

Lance gives an annoyed huff, arranging his features to project maximum offense at Hunk’s inquiry. “Excuse whatever _you’re_ thinking. My oldest cousin’s a security guard.”

“…Huh. _Not_ what I was thinking.”

  Lance grits his teeth, turning to glare at Pidge this time. “I realized.”

They hear a throat clear behind them.

Pidge doesn’t scream, thankyouverymuch. She _does_ , however, give a weird, choked squawk as she spins, raising her arms defensively in front of her face.

She turns in time to witness Keith wince, his ears flattening back, as Hunk and Lance _do_ scream, clutching at each other with death grips and impossibly wide eyes.

“Are you done?” Keith asks, radiating annoyance.

There’s a silence filled only with their (mostly Hunk and Lance’s) ragged breathing.

Then…

“No, not done! As if you weren’t enough of an asshole last time, you had to do the whole jump scare thing again?” Lance recovers and becomes indignant in the same breath.

“You said I was too quiet last time. I made noise this time.”

 _“Coughing once_ when _already in the room_ does not constitute ‘making noise.’” Lance sneers, making air quotes.

Keith looks like he is holding on to a veneer of patience with only his claw tips.

“Then _what_ , exactly, would you like me to do?”

“Easy; knock.”

Keith blinks at him.

Lance groans. “Really?”

He sighs, straightens, pastes on the most irritatingly sarcastic smile Pidge has ever seen (and she’s seen a _lot)_ , walks over to the wall, and raps on it twice with his knuckles.

There’s a pause.

“You want me to make that _specific_ noise.”

“Yes.”

“Whenever I come in.”

“On the _door_ as you come in, yes, that would be nice.”

Keith stares at him.

Lance crosses his arms.

A moment of silence passes.

Then, Pidge gets the distinct impression that Keith is rolling his eyes, and he strides further into the room, stopping a couple feet away from her.

She _still_ has to look up a little. She would be irritated, but this is actually just the norm for her. She knows she’ll grow someday (but she also knows her family is on the short side).

“You found the camera.”

They all freeze.

Lance gives a faux gasp.

“There’s a _camera_ in this room? And I thought you’d already reached maximum douche levels. Shame on you, Keith.” He gives a nervous laugh.

Keith ignores him, and Pidge cautiously decides that his lack of anger is a good thing.

“You found the camera. How?”

Pidge eyes him carefully. He honestly seems more curious than anything else. It certainly doesn’t _feel_ like he’s trying to give some kind of veiled threat.

May as well at least _attempt_ to be honest with each other, since he is at least trying to help them.

She shrugs. “I’m good with tech; I know a camera when I see one. Plus, it’s the only patch of discoloration in the wall, hidden in the corner or not. Once you’re looking for it, you can see the lens.”

Lance viciously mimes throat slashing movements at her. “No, Pidge! Deny, deny, deny! You of all people should know it’s the American way!”

Pidge leans past Keith to give Lance a deadpan stare. “The American ‘way’ was traditionally ‘neither confirm nor deny.’ You already did the denying bit. Besides, I’m only _technically_ American. You are aware that I’m Canadian, Lance.”

“I thought you were from Earth…?”

Pidge snaps back to facing Keith. “We are!” She assures, then tones it back a bit when he visibly fights not to recoil at her fervor.

“We are.” She says, quieter. “Like we said, Earth is the name of our _planet_. The surface of the planet, however, is divided up into… well, continents, countries, states, and cities. The country _I’m_ from is called ‘Canada,’ and the continent _it’s_ in is called ‘North America.’”

Keith looks thoroughly weirded out by her explanation. Pidge sighs.

“Well, we can assume that _that’s_ not a thing on other planets…” She mutters.

“Um.” Keith starts, once again looking like he’s been thrown out of his element. “It might be. I wouldn’t know, I think I’ve only been to the surface of a planet once or twice.”

They all gape at him.

“Wait.” Hunk says, putting his hands up in front of him as if to halt his own thoughts. “You grew up _in space?_ And you still kinda live in it? How old are you, again?”

Keith straightens, back to his more usual annoyance. “I don’t think our time measurements are compatible.”

 _“Okay,”_ Lance says, “How far are you into the average — what, Galra? — life cycle?”

Keith pauses.

There’s silence for a minute, long enough for Pidge to think he won’t answer, before he says reluctantly, “About a fifth.”

Lance looks like he can’t decide whether to be delighted, distressed, or weirded out.

“You’re a _teenager?”_

Bewilderment, quickly followed by exasperation, flashes across Keith’s face. “I don’t know what that means, but I am an adolescent — not for much longer, though.”

Lance _howls._ At this, Keith does recoil.

“You’re our age!” He cackles. “Oh my God, you’re a broody teenager!”

Hunk, however, looks concerned.

“Dude, who the heck is putting you in charge of investigations and, and, _prisoners_ at that age? Isn’t that, like, not a great idea?”

The insinuation that he’s not fit for his job does not go over well.

Keith draws up to his full height, which they all at the same time remember is _very tall_ , and says in a voice that cracks across the room like breaking ice;

“I would reconsider that statement.”

Pidge looks over at Hunk, alarmed, only to see he already has his hands up in a soothing gesture, his expression of concern not having left.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Believe me, I’m glad you were assigned to us, and I’m sure you can do your job just fine. I just meant, well, it seems irresponsible to put someone so young in harm’s way.”

Blinking at Hunk, Keith relaxes a little, and then snorts.

“Do you three really consider yourselves ‘harm’s way’?”

Lance bristles, but Hunk continues before he can give any input.

“Well, no, but _they_ didn’t know that. Whoever ‘they’ are.”

“‘They’ would be Emperor Zarkon. And to him, and therefore to the Empire, it’s ability that matters, not age. I would be perfectly capable of handling a far worse scenario than this.”

“Well, it’s nice to know we’re not your worst-case scenario.”

The tension in the room diffuses a little.

Pidge decides to dare speaking up again.

“Why… why did you want to know about the camera?”

Keith eyes her. In an apparent change of topic, he says, “I still haven’t located any human prisoners, or the people you’re looking for.”

Pidge’s thought process halts, and she slowly feels her expression fall. Her ears begin thundering, stomach sinking as she starts to consider, for the first time, that her family might not have crossed paths with these aliens at all.

What if they weren’t here? Was she wasting time? Had she gotten captured for nothing?

What if she never found them?

Keith seems to sense her distress.

“That doesn’t mean they’re not here; I think it’s very likely they are, or were. It will just… take time to locate them among millions.”

Pidge takes several deep breaths, forcing her breathing back to normal. _It’s okay. It’s okay. They’re here, they’ve got to be. You’ll find them._

“My point is,” Keith continues, “that if you’re so good with tech, good enough to recognize disguised alien tech as a camera… is it a family trait?”

She looks up sharply.

“Why?”

His eyebrow twitches up.

“Is it?”

They face each other down in the ensuing silence.

 _He’s trying to help,_ Pidge reminds herself. _This won’t be groundbreaking information for him._

“…Yes.”

He grins at this, looking surprisingly young as he does. Even as it reveals sharp teeth, the smile makes her feel like he’s inviting her to share in some private victory.

“Then I think there’s an excellent chance that they were involved with that escape pod.”

__________

Haggar watches, invisible, as the young Prince walks quietly down the hall towards her door, having made sure that no-one else was around — or at least, he thinks so.

How very naive of him. As if she doesn’t have alarms all of her own set around where she resides.

He finds his way to the one blind spot in the cameras — the one blind spot she had made sure existed — pressing himself behind one of the support beams that lined the halls. Silently, his fingers skate over the access panel, the one that would grant entrance to her room.

Her eyebrows raise.

What was he trying to do? She never thought the younger of Zarkon’s sons would be foolish enough to try and trespass on her private quarters.

If he did, it would not end well for him.

To her surprise, he does not attempt to force entrance. Instead, he feels carefully around.

_Surely, he didn’t…_

But then, he finds the false edge, and his hand slides underneath only to draw out one of her access chips.

Haggar doesn’t know whether to be proud or annoyed.

_He was more observant than she thought._

He takes it with a twitch of the lips and retreats.

Haggar watches him go.

_Why would he bother…?_

He turns down a very isolated hall. The hall that leads to only two conjoined rooms with the same, very specific, purpose.

_Ah._

Zarkon must have told his son about their very special… guests.

She hums.

How very odd of him, to fill his son on what he stressed were ‘top secret matters.’ She supposes he had mentioned them to his eldest, but Lotor was barely in the loop. He knew the prisoners in those cells were important.

He didn’t know anything else, and he hadn’t asked for more.

But then, she supposes, wasn’t Korath looking into the prison files right now? Zarkon had probably decided to preemptively make sure Korath didn’t go talking about any suspicious finds.

Personally, Haggar would have taken her chances. It was strange of her Emperor to not simply make sure his son couldn’t find them. Even if he _could_ , it would be very hard for him to come across them, if he’s slumming through all the individual files, let alone muster up any interest for what would appear to be only cell numbers.

And even if he were to look into it, she knows the younger of the Princes is also the more reserved of the two. It’s not as if he would mention it to anyone.

The way Zarkon’s handled it, Korath is still interfering anyway.

Zarkon liked to issue challenges, though. She suspects he’s only assigned the mission Korath was currently on, regarding the escape pod and a possible escaped prisoner, to him because he knew how tediously difficult it would be to swim through all the prison files.

What had her favourite… _patient_ said once?

Needle in a haystack?

Besides, Korath was stubborn, and unlikely to let things go once brought to his attention. As a way of dealing with it, the Emperor had probably said his son could only get involved _here_ if he got in to the cell, knowing full well that only she, aside from himself, had access.

It seems they had both underestimated him.

 _Oh well_ , she thinks, amused. That’s her opinion, not his. She’ll get around to informing him later. He can deal with his son doing an unauthorized interrogation out of curiosity. Who knows, maybe Korath will get something out of them that they haven’t.

_Unlikely._

Losing interest, Haggar releases her hold on her spectral presence, returning to more important matters.

__________

Korath approaches the door, eyeing it with caution. That whole process had been… strangely easy.

Thank the Empire that these cells had no guards in addition to no cameras.

They really were top secret, huh?

Maybe he shouldn’t say ‘cells,’ plural. Although the door boasted both consecutive cell numbers, there was still only one entrance for the two of them. Weirder and weirder.

Korath takes a deep breath.

_Please let this key work._

“Access Granted.”

He breathes a sigh.

Now what?

…Well. He’ll never know if he doesn’t go in.

The door slides open.

A strangely accented voice meets his ears.

“We’ve already told you. We don’t know where the lions are, and even if we did, you are the last person we’d tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the plot starts to move forward. Still no new characters, but I hope you've picked up that we will see some familiar faces soon. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, so I hope this one doesn't seem out of character. This is the chapter when things start actually happening, and some intense Emotions(TM) come into play, so I hope I handled all that okay.
> 
> I also upped the rating because of this chapter, but that's mainly because of implied torture and then torture mentions (as well as like one swear word), so warning for that, I guess.

Korath frowns into the darkness, squinting as he waits for his eyes to adjust.

“What?”

There’s a silence.

“Ah. Not Zarkon then.”

Slowly, the room comes into focus, and Korath is genuinely shocked at what he sees. There is a woman… strapped to a metal slab…? She looks tired, malnourished, and just all around not well cared for.

Oh, yeah.

And she’s Altean.

She has darker tan skin, not unlike Hunk’s, with pink markings under what he was sure were usually beautiful, wide eyes, were they lacking the dull sheen they currently sported. Dark circles framed them, but they still sparked with defiance.

Clumps of matted, dirty hair fell over her shoulders, tangling around her ears — he thinks it may once have been white.

Her ears themselves, pointed and long, are hard to look at. They’re bloody, torn in places, and in others seem to have been bent.

The rest of her is not in much better condition; neither are her clothes, though they look as if they were once made of rich material.

Korath doesn’t know how to react; doesn’t know what to _do_.

The Altean is eying him curiously.

“Get away from the Princess!”

Yet another strange accent greets his ears, which turn to the side before his head does. A thick, transparent wall separates this cell from what he assumes to be the other of the two most important prisoners of the Galra Empire.

The other Altean has orange hair, what was surely a once impressive mustache to match, and paler skin, more like Pidge’s. He himself looks gaunt, but not… purposely hurt. More just neglected. His ears look… better than hers, and he has electric blue half crescents under his eyes.

Said eyes are also currently fixed on Korath, and don’t look very friendly.

“I said,” He repeats, slowly and deadly, “Get. Away. From. The Princess.”

Korath turns back to the female in shock.

“You’re a Princess?”

Confusion overtakes her features.

“…You don’t know who I am…?”

Korath chokes out a disbelieving laugh.

“Apparently the supposed royalty of a species that’s been extinct for ten thousand of your years?”

The Princess blanches.

_“What?”_

The color drains from her face, robbing it of any remaining life or warmth it had had. She jolts up from the platform, a knee jerk reaction to her shock, only to be slammed back down by the viciously determined restraints.

Her eyelids peel back, exposing rolling whites, before she seemed to physically yank her expression back under control.

“No. No, you’re lying. Zarkon’s sent you here because he knew I wouldn’t believe a word he said. This isn’t true. _Ten thousand years,_ ha. If you wanted me to believe you, you should have gone for something less absurd.”

Korath stares at her in bewilderment. What is she on about? Claims of being a Princess, and then acting as if she was ten thousand years out of date?

Well. She might be, for all he knew. After all, Alteans in general _would_ be ten thousand years out of date.

Slowly, he crouches before her, making sure that her eyes meet his.

“I honestly do not know anything about you or your situation, beyond what I’m seeing and hearing right now. Can you fill me in?”

“Like we’ll believe you don’t already know,” the other voice breaks in bitterly from the other side of the clear wall. Korath cuts a glance over at the other Altean, giving him a piercing stare.

“Humor me.”

The male glares at him mutinously.

“Alright then.” The… apparent ‘Princess’ answers in an even, quiet tone, drawing Korath’s attention.

“If you really do know everything, then I suppose it doesn't matter. If you don't... I don't know that I much care.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“We…” She blows out a gusty sigh and starts again.

“The Galrans — your people, I suppose — were attacking Altea. My fath… King Alfor refused to fight, and put me to sleep in a cryogenic pod. I assume Coran met the same fate not much later. I… King Alfor must have loaded us into an escape pod, because Zarkon found us, but not… not the… castle that the pods usually reside in, and we were told we were found floating in one in orbit around some desolate planet. Zarkon’s told us that my father is… dead, and that we’ve lost, that the Galran Empire's taken over the galaxy, but that can’t be true, so don’t even attempt to tell me otherwise. We’ve been here maybe a month, Galran time; all of that can’t have happened so quickly. And do not even try to say it’s been ten thousand years — there’s no way Zarkon would still be alive, so it really is a foolish lie.”

Korath considers this. That… more or less matches the history books, aside from three key details.

One obviously being that not all Alteans (excluding Lotor's mother) were wiped out.

The second being the lack of mention of Voltron. While the average Galran history book may not include it, his, as a Prince, certainly had. He'd dismissed it as largely myth, but...

“You said something about lions when I first came in.”

She stills.

“Ah. Well, that’s one thing I won’t be mentioning further.”

Korath surveys her. More specifically, he takes in her broken form, and the contrast between it and the evidently remaining fire of her spirit. He looks at her, at all the pain she’s in, and can’t bring himself to even attempt to take the one thing that’s driving her forward.

“Alright. But there’s one other detail that doesn’t quite match up to my knowledge.”

She finds it in herself to raise an exhausted eyebrow.

“You say you’ve been here a month. I know for a fact that you must have been here far longer.”

“Why would you think that?”

“My… someone I know was very… bitter about your existence.”

“So much for not knowing about us,” the male Altean comments with a sneer.

Korath shoots him a dirty look. “Coran, I assume? The… person I knew didn’t tell me much about you, only that two captives existed that were higher priority then her. This didn’t make her very happy, given her former status. I don’t know that even _she_ knew who you were. But that was years ago, in Galran time.”

The Princess hums quietly, seeming serene despite her circumstances.

“There may have been years between when they found us and when we were awakened — it is… not so difficult for me to believe that as it is for me to believe it’s been _ten thousand years_. I am sure that my father would have had the foresight to ensure that the pods was coded against Galran interference.”

Her expression turns sad.

“Of course, nothing is infallible.”

Korath watches her for a moment before turning away, feeling so at a loss for what to do in the situation he's been confronted with. He… he needs to process this. He needs to process _all_ of this.

He stands, hesitating before once more opening his mouth.

“I need to go. I’m… not actually supposed to be here. I kind of… broke in."

The Princess giggles a little, and then looks shocked at herself. She blinks, and her expression seems to warm when she looks back up at him.

“Why? What do you gain by doing this? What on Altea are you doing here?”

He shrugs.

“Satisfying my curiosity?”

She actually smiles at this.

“If what you say is true, and you are what you seem, then I think I quite like you.”

Glancing over at the one with orange hair, Korath notices that while he’s still eying him suspiciously, he, too, seems to have softened a touch.

Korath takes a deep breath. “Since I really don’t have an ulterior motive to be here, I really have no reason to lie to you. The story you told me? I learned it from Galran history books. It really has been ten thousand Altean years. Zarkon probably didn’t tell you because he knew you wouldn’t believe him, for the reasons you stated, and you would also therefore not believe whatever else he said. Besides… he probably knows that the less information you have, the better. But think about it. Why would your father send you away from the safety of the… castle, unless your planet was lost?”

Struggling to find the words to convince them, Korath sighs.

“Look, I’m not going to try and force you into believing any of that. But it really is all true. There’s a Galran Empire now, and Zarkon’s the Emperor. It’s been that way for a long time. Just… consider it; keep that information in mind.”

The Princess is quiet, before she says in a low, deadly voice, “Even if what the rest of you say is true, Zarkon is no Emperor, and never will be.”

Korath doesn’t know what to say to that. He turns to go.

“Wait!”

The Princess meets his eyes.

“You know my companion’s name. I never actually introduced myself to you. I am Princess Allura of Altea… or at least I was. Who are you?”

What does he say to that? ‘I’m the son of the man you hate, who’s kidnapped you, tortured you, and killed your entire race’? Besides, if they mention him to Haggar and Zarkon, that would pretty much blow whatever flimsy cover he had. Probably best if they don’t know his identity.

It’s not as if she’d consider him a real Prince anyway, if she doesn’t consider Zarkon a real Emperor.

What had the humans called him?  

“I’m nobody, really. But you can call me Keith.”

__________

The door slides quietly shut behind the strange Galran, and Allura releases a breath.

She doesn’t know what to make of that encounter.

“What do you think, Princess?”

She turns tired eyes to her companion.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t press for information, and honestly seemed surprised at… all this. It was… nice, to see a different face, a friendly one. Then again, this could easily be a ploy of some kind. I’m… I’m just not sure anymore.”

Tears pool in her eyes. Her father… she had to face that he was likely dead. And what if what the rest of what… what ‘Keith’ had said was true? Her world, literally and figuratively… gone, crashing down, and she hadn't even been there to see it, to _know_.

“I fear, if he was not lying, that all may be lost, Coran,” she manages to get out between gasping sobs.

“No, Princess.” 

Allura raises her her head, vision blurry as she wonders what Coran could possibly say to make this better.

He meets her gaze, determined and unflinching.

“Listen to me, Allura. If what ‘Keith’ said was true, then all is definitely not lost. Think about it. A whole Empire, a conquered galaxy, and Zarkon is _still_ desperate to find Voltron. If, even with all that, he fears, then he’s still fallible. He can still be _beaten.”_

He leans towards her as much as he can.

“And some out there must know it.”

__________

Lance fiddles with his jacket, turning it over and trying to asses how dirty it is. Usually it was pretty sturdy and could last a few wears, but he had no idea how long he'd had it on now. He doesn't think _too_ long, he's fairly certain it hasn't even been a week (maybe even only two or three days?) that they've been gone, but it's starting to feel kinda gross, just sitting around in the same outfit.

He wishes he could change. He wishes he could see his family. He wishes he could go _home._

Once again, they haven't been here too long. Honestly, he's had stints at summer camp that lasted longer than this. But just the thought that he may never get back...

Not having anything to distract him from the grief he barely holds at bay isn't exactly a bonus, either.

They're all really, really bored. The reveal of the camera had made Pidge give up on the escape plan for now, although he suspects she's just too wired up with the tension of waiting for news, and she, Hunk, and him are all sprawled back on their respective beds. Hunk looks like he's ready to keel over from the lack of anything to do, staring into middle distance, while Pidge tries to burn a hole in the ceiling with her eyes.

In an effort too distract himself, Lance will occasionally pull faces at where Pidge had claimed the camera to be, but soon even that little entertainment loses its appeal, and eventually, in trying to ignore the looming feeling of loss that threatens to overwhelm him, he zones out, gaze directed at the door.

Which only a few moments later slides open, much to Lance’s surprise, to reveal their asshole-cutie-alien-captor. And he still hadn't knocked. But seriously, hadn’t Mr Stoic _just_ visited them? This was… out of character.

He strides in, expression hard to read, and proceeds to…

Ignore them.

He strides in, ignores them, and just starts pacing.

Lance shares a startled look with Hunk.

“Uh… Keith? Buddy? You with us, here?”

He acts as if he can’t hear them, which Lance _knows_ is bullshit (seriously, he’s got better hearing than the cats he so resembles), and continues to pace.

And _then_ starts muttering under his breath, expression contorting rapidly as he seems to run through a whirlwind of emotion.

“…what in the Empire made him think… they’re an enemy race, yeah, but they’re the _last_ of an enemy race, and he’s not even trying very hard to keep them alive…”

What?

Pidge’s face abruptly drains of all color at hearing this, and time seems to stop around her before she _launches_ herself at Keith, height difference be damned, digging her fingers into his collar and twisting, bunching the fabric even as she plants her feet on his chest.

Lance springs up, ready to intervene, when he notices Keith make an instinctive movement, reaching as if to grab a weapon. Luckily, he takes in his situation fairly quickly, and instead simply reaches his arms out to push Pidge away as much as possible, staggering at the force with which she collides into him.

 _“What has he done to them?_ What has that _bastard_ of an Emperor done to my family? Where are they? Keith, tell me or so help me I’ll…"

Keith, still in the reared back position he was forced into at her attack, looks both alarmed and bewildered at this. His lips lift in a snarl even as his yellow eyes remain widened.

“What are you talking about?”

 _“MY FAMILY!”_ Pidge roars at him. “You just said they were near death!”

“What? No I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did! You said Zarkon wasn’t trying very hard to keep them alive!”

Comprehension dawns on his face and a growl escapes his throat.

Lance never thought such a feral noise could sound so exasperated as well as aggravated.

“No! No, Pidge, I wasn’t talking about _them_. I still haven’t been able to _find_ them!”

She eyes him in adrenaline fueled suspicion.

Lance, having taken the time to _actually think before he acts,_ decides to jump in.

“Uh, Pidge?”

She turns her glare on him, and he flinches back.

“Um, Keith, here, _also_ said, in conjunction to those other comments, that the people in question were ‘the last of their kind.’ Even if the entire human race was annihilated in the space of less than a week, _we’re_ still here, so you’re family — plus Shiro — wouldn’t be the last of their kind, would they? Plus, since Keithy boy here had to ask what we were, I doubt we're important enough that we’d be considered an ‘enemy race.’”

Pidge looks at him, chest heaving, as she mulls over his logic in silence.

Lance holds his breath. He really doesn’t want her overreaction to escalate to the point that they alienate — ha — the one ally they have. Worse, he doesn’t want her punished for manhandling — borderline attacking — their jailer.

To his relief, Pidge drags in one more breath, finally settling, before she turns back to Keith and asks, in a calmer voice, “Then who were you talking about? Why are you _here?”_

 _Oh, come on. Was he the only one here with_ any _self preservation?_

He wrenches Pidge off Keith, shoving her behind him, and aims a beaming smile at their captor.

“What she _means_ to say is, ‘I’m terribly sorry, I’m just grief stricken and not in total control over my faculties due to the terrible food.’ Wait! No, uh, not that the food is terrible, it’s great, really it is-“

Keith, looking unsure at how to process the situation, frowns.

“If you’re trying to be friendly, I hope you know that a smile which exposes your teeth is interpreted as a veiled threat amongst the Galra.”

 _Dammit!_ Of course it would, they had bloody _fangs._

“Well, on Earth, it’s to show happiness. Not that I was happy to see you attacked! I just-“

Pidge pushes forward again, then, glaring murderously up at Keith.

“No! I meant what I said before. If you're not talking about my family, then _explain.”_

Keith recovers his poise, then, and eyes her coldly.

“I don’t owe you anything, much less an explanation.”

Hunk risks joining in here. _Why the hell were they all pushing their luck?_

“Er, I think we would greatly appreciate one, anyway? C’mon, man, you storm in here with no explanation, make no sense, and then refuse to tell us anything? What’re we gonna do with any information you give us?”

“Exactly, so why do you want it?”

Lance gives a timid grin, desperately trying to dig his teammates out of their precarious situation.

“Curiosity?”

Keith eyes him for a moment, then sighs and resumes pacing.

“Whatever. I… I don’t know. I just… I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see. I came across two other prisoners, from a race I thought long extinct, and they were… they weren’t in good shape. And one of them was royalty! And she’d been tortured!”

He runs a hand through his fluff that passes for hair, claws catching in the tangles, and Lance thinks he’s never seen their largely unshakeable captor so distressed. Sure, he gets irritated, confused when confronted with ‘human’ things, but he always seemed to be in control. Seeing him so upset… it’s… kind of unnerving. But then again… Lance experiences a sinking sensation in his stomach.

“Tortured?” Hunk voices the word undoubtedly bouncing around all their heads, and he looks… quietly wounded. Upset. Disappointed, even. But strangely unsurprised.

Keith glances up, taking in Hunk’s face.

“…Yeah.”

He doesn’t look any happier than Lance feels.

“You seem upset about this.” Pidge comments without sympathy, her face hard.

Keith’s anger seems to come roaring back, and he explodes at her.

“Of course I’m upset! What’s wrong with you? Why _wouldn’t_ I be?”

She shrugs, unrepentant. “Not much seems to faze you. I think you’ve shown more emotion in the past five minutes than you have all the other times we’ve seen you put together. Besides, I’d think, being one of the higher ups and all, you’d be used to it.”

“This is _not_ regular conduct!” Keith shoots back hotly. “I mean… I knew it went on, sometimes. But… It’s just…” He leans heavily against the wall, energy draining, and suddenly looks tired. “I suppose it is hypocritical of me, to be so shocked. I…”

“You’re young,” Hunk puts in quietly. “You’ve never seen it before.”

“No,” Keith murmurs.

No-one speaks for a moment. Lance supposes none of them know how to respond.

Finally, Keith sighs.

“What’s happening to them… it’s wrong. I’ll… I’ll go talk to the Emperor.” His bares his teeth again in a snarl. “Let’s see what he has to say about it.”

Lance’s only coherent thought through his flare of panic at this is, _oh, shit, not happening,_ and he leaps forward to plant himself between Keith and the door.

Apparently similar things were going through Hunk and Pidge’s minds, as Hunk yells out in a panicky voice, "I don’t think that’s a good idea!” and Pidge grabs hold of one of Keith’s arms, pulling him backwards with a cry of “Wait!”

Keith yanks it out of her grasp, shock warping into a venomous glare that’s first directed at Pidge before it turns to encompass them all.

“What’s _wrong_ with all of you?”

“Dude, hear me out!” Lance says desperately, hands outstretched in a silent plea. “I do _not_ think the big, bad, Emperor who kidnaps aliens and _tortures them_ is going to listen to one of his good-hearted subjects challenging him on the matter, especially if you weren’t supposed to know about it!”

“Yeah, dude.” Hunk’s face is anxious, panic still clinging to his features. “I’m pretty sure the only thing that would accomplish would be your _death!”_

“Seriously!” Pidge adds, upset as the rest of them but more grounded, more sure. “Historically, those with overwhelming power tend not to be benevolent, and do _not_ react well to being told they’re wrong by their inferiors.”

Keith seems thrown by their arguments, ears pressed flat against his head. His mouth works for a moment before he finds his words, bursting out, “Why do you _care?”_

Huh.

Lance isn’t sure how to answer that for a moment.

And then he does, because it’s simple, really.

“What kind of assholes just let a man march out to his easily avoidable _death?”_

Keith blinks, seemingly trying to find his footing at that statement.

“You really think I would die?”

He says this as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

“Uh, _yes.”_

It’s Hunk who speaks this time, his features settling back into the concern — or maybe more outright worry — they’d been displaying so often during these past few days of captivity.

Keith looks like he’s experiencing emotional whiplash from this whole exchange.

“Seriously.” Pidge recaptures his gaze and pulls him in with the gravity of her expression.

“Being outright with what you think in these circumstances is _not_ how change actually happens. All it does is let people know who they need to kill.”

Keith’s frozen in shock. The cell fills with ringing silence, and the whole setup seems unreal.

Finally, the Galran appears to find his footing, and he slowly straightens.

He makes to walk towards the door, but Lance refuses to move, his arms still outstretched.

Chin lowered, eyes open and begging to be listened to, Lance meets him head on.

“Promise.”

Lance can’t even begin to describe how he feels in that moment, locking eyes with Keith, but something in the air seems to fundamentally _change_.

Keith nods.

Lance deflates a little and steps aside.

In the ensuing quiet, Keith makes his exit.

__________

Korath keeps his head down, face blank, as he makes his way back to his rooms. He doesn’t acknowledge the guards outside, simply walking through the door only to immediately collapse against the wall.

What…? Just, _what?_

His outlook is changing so fast that he’s too dizzy to even _attempt_ to catch up with it.

His encounter with the Alteans… and first of all, there were _Alteans._ He supposes it shouldn’t be quite this much of a shock, with Lotor’s mother and all.

Lotor’s mother… from what he knew, she had died shortly after Lotor had been born, long before he himself had. His father had valued Alteans enough that he’d reproduced with one, kept one around, and yet still treated the prisoners… But she was dead now, and had been for a while.

Ten thousand Altean years later, and no-one would care to use that time frame anymore, but he’d had to because he’d come face to face with two pieces of living, breathing history.

And they were not pretty.

Well, actually, both of them _were,_ but they also really, really were’t.

He understood what had led to the extinction of the Alteans. It had been war, a fight to the death, a fight for _survival,_ and that the species was wiped out was an unfortunate result.

This was different. This was unnecessary. This was _cruelty._

And he didn’t know how to deal with that. He _didn’t know_ how to deal with the ugly side of the Empire he was supposed to soon have a hand in — technically did have a hand in, he supposed, now that he’d been given his first mission.

The mission.

He hadn't known how to deal what he’d found, and he’d controlled himself as long as he could, as it got harder and harder, until he’d just ducked into the closest room where he knew he wouldn’t be interrupted.

Except he’d forgotten about his damn mission, forgotten that there in fact _would_ be witnesses to his little meltdown.

And then he’d been practically assaulted by a prisoner, hadn’t even considered reprimanding her for it (let alone _punishing_ her for it, let alone _attacking her_ for it, as he was expected to), revealed _top secret information,_ information he wasn’t even sure his brother, the _Crown Prince,_ knew, to three prisoners, who then…

Who then expressed concern for him?

Who seemed legitimately scared for his life?

Sure, he was the one ally they had in here, the one semi-friendly face, but _still_. He knows the difference between trying to assert something out of your own needs, and… and what _they_ had done. He hadn’t expected the often light hearted creatures, desperate to find their loved ones though they may be, to understand implicitly and comprehensively the situation he’d only alluded to. He didn’t expect anything in their backgrounds to give them familiarity with such things. And not only had they really, truly understood, perhaps better then him, they’d cared.

They honestly thought he’d _die_.

And he could see where they were coming from.

If anyone other than he, Haggar and Lotor had even come _close_ to questioning Zarkon’s judgement, that’s exactly the fate they’d meet.

For the first time, he considered that that may not be fair.

He knew he was safe from anything more than a slap on the wrist for that kind of behavior, as his initial mission grant had shown, but _they_ didn’t know that, didn’t know who he really was.

Honestly, he kept forgetting to tell them, because truth be told, when he was around them, _he_ forgot he wasn’t their equal.

Besides, if he displayed that kind of attitude change… Zarkon would probably give him a ‘slap on the wrist’ in the form of confiscating his mission.

He had no idea what that would mean for the humans, aside from ‘not good.’

Korath didn’t even bother to question why that filled him with nausea anymore.

On that note, he needed to erase the camera footage of that last… encounter with the humans. There was no sound, so nothing incriminated _him,_ but the visuals of the way they’d acted around him was enough to get _them_ killed.

Except he had no idea how to erase that footage without leaving a trail.

But Pidge might.

And apparently he was now contemplating entering a conspiracy to cover up inappropriate actions by prisoners.

Oh wait. He’d already broken into a top secret cell and proceeded depart information to the prisoners of war inside that Zarkon almost certainly didn’t want them to know, without gaining anything in return.

He groaned, dropping to the floor with a thump.

Quiznak.

He was in _way_ over his head.

__________

Zarkon reads over the mission update he’s received from his son with increasing enthusiasm.

He admits, it’s all incredibly boring, nothing more than information sifting, but the fact that his impulsive, energetic son is approaching such dull work with seriousness, and is actually investigating the matter incredibly thoroughly simply because he’d told him that it was important to the Empire, fills him with pride.

He’d given this mission to his son simply to prove that he wasn’t _ready_ for more missions, to prove that he wasn’t ready for the boring side of it, knowing that the Prince probably expected only combat.

And yet he was maturely carrying out an investigation single handedly, in a way he knew many of his generals wouldn't have had patience for.

While he hadn’t bothered to review the video footage himself, it seemed that in addition to the mission, Korath had actually been finding the time to interrogate the… humans. Apparently there was nothing of note discovered, yet, but still, the fact that he was doing it at all…

Remarkable.

Now in a thoroughly good mood, Zarkon decides it may be time to schedule in that little tradition of his. He hadn’t truly thought of this as his son’s first mission until now, but seeing as it appears to be… Well, this celebration is long overdue.

In addition to entertainment, he’s sure this experience will aid Korath in his investigation of what, exactly, occurs in the prisons.

Tomorrow, he thinks. He’ll surprise his son with this tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Keith's thoughts on the Altean's extinction being justified; remember, he was probably taught a heavily biased/outright untruthful version of history, so he would think something like that.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated, and thanks so much for the reception so far!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer -- had to stew over a plot problem. Hopefully, it's all resolved now! Still, life has decided to rear its ugly head, so the next few chapters may also take a while. 
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE RESPONSE! Seriously, it's awesome. Not much else to say for this, except I totally stole a definition right out of a dictionary (you'll know when you see it). Oh yeah, and on that note, I never put in a disclaimer -- I mean, this is a site literally MADE for fanfiction, but you never know. So:
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything from Voltron.
> 
> That'll have to do, 'cause I'm lazy and tired.
> 
> One last thing: More swearing, and incredibly vaguely described violence! Yay!

“You want me to _what?”_

Keith gives an irritated rumble low in his throat. Lance thinks he probably doesn’t intend for it to be as endearing as it is.

“I haven’t _actually_ asked you to do anything yet. Right now I’m only checking if you _can.”_

Pidge eyes him. “I’m not going to be pulled into covering up whatever shady stuff you do on the side.”

“I — what? First, I’m not sure what that means, and _second,_ the only reason I’m asking is because it might be in your best interests to control what a certain Emperor sees you do.”

There’s a pause.

“Clarification would be nice,” Lance drawls. Then, he brightens, trying his best to address the total mess that was yesterday’s encounter without making things… weird.

Or weird _er,_ anyway.

“Oh yeah, and in regards to that, ah, Emperor, it’s good to see you’re not dead! Nice to know you keep your promises.”

Keith shoots a glare at him, but it’s half hearted at best.

Lance winks in return, but this action does not get the desired response.

Instead of any reaction ranging between amusement and irritation, Keith just gets derailed with bewilderment yet again.

“What is a half blink supposed to convey?”

Right. Alien.

Without a pause, Pidge rattles off a definition.

Lance wonders if they’re all getting too used to these kinds of exchanges.

“What Lance just did is known as a ‘wink’ among humans. It’s usually done to indicate that something is a joke or a secret or as a signal of affection. Lance did it as a joke, and now that that’s out of the way, can you please clarify like he asked?”

Keith takes a moment to process this barrage of information, and then seems to dismiss it in order to return to the reason for his visit.

“The camera. Remember that? Aside from me, the only one who can view it is Zarkon himself. Even without sound, if he decides to review the footage, I don’t think he’d like to see three prisoners manhandling their jailer.”

Lance is a little thrown by that, but not for the reasons Keith seems to think.

“So… you’re _not_ planning to punish us for that?”

Keith pulls back in confusion.

“Do you _want_ me to?”

“No! I’m just… _surprised_ that you’re not only letting us get away with it, you’re _also_ helping us cover it up, which is _especially_ weird considering that you were the one, ah, attacked. Why?”

Suddenly Keith seems troubled. His brow furrows, and he looks down, as if searching for the answer.

Lance could smack himself. Stupid! Don’t question help when offered to them! He doesn’t need Keith to doubt himself and rescind the offer.

But instead of changing his mind, Keith starts to explain.

Slowly, he says, “I’m not entirely comfortable with this, no. But… I’ve worked against the Emperor’s implied wishes enough these past few cycles that this really won’t add too much to my growing list of deception. Besides… a smaller transgression like this is worth it to make sure I’m not the kind of ‘asshole’ that lets three people meet an end when their deaths would be easily preventable.”

His lips quirk in a small, almost _shy_ smile, and it would be adorable because look! He was learning, paraphrasing them and everything! Except Lance has to ruin the moment, because he’s a little hung up on that last bit.

“Wait a second, are you saying we would be _killed_ for that?”

And now Keith looks confused again.

“You did attack your jailer.”

Lance almost can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Dude! Keith, bro, _wow._ That is _not_ a good reason to kill someone. Seriously! Is that how Zarkon runs things around here?”

“…Yes…?”

And then Hunk breaks in.

“Am I the only one not surprised? I mean, this guy already has a rap for kidnapping, torture, unlawful imprisonment… I mean, really, have we heard anything about him that makes him sound like a nice guy?”

And then _Pidge_ joins the fray.

“I think Lance is the _only_ one surprised here, Hunk.”

He doesn’t bother to reply, mainly because he’s become distracted by the expression on Keith’s face. It’s twisted into the most conflicted arrangement Lance has ever seen, looking like he simultaneously agrees with them while still wanting to defend his Emperor.

Does the law require these Galrans to do that, profess loyalty at all times? Would the punishment for _not_ doing so _also_ be death?

Lance is very glad that this room didn’t have a microphone.

“…Can we get back on topic?”

Pidge turns to him as if shocked that such words came from his mouth.

Okay, _that_ was offensive.

“Hey! Why is it so surprising that I’d like to not _die?_ Honestly, I think I’ve displayed the most self preservation out of all of you throughout this whole experience!”

“Except for the part where you willingly ran into an alien spacecraft,” Hunk comments sardonically.

“And then insulted your captors before you’d even met them.” Pidge notes.

“Okay, _that’s_ just not fair. That was when I didn’t know what I was getting into! It’s you guys who realize the kind of situation you’re in and then do stupid stuff anyway!”

Keith raises his eyebrows, impassive and yet still conveying amusement at Lance’s indignation. “What happened to getting back on topic?”

 _“Yes,_ well, shall we do that, then, _Keith?”_ Maybe he shouldn’t say that quite so sniffily, but honestly, why did everyone have to go after _him?_ At least Keith had been successfully distracted from his internal conflict.

“Right. Incriminating camera footage. We need it gone.” Pidge sighs, slumping a little before her back straightens.

“Well, I guess I can try — it _is_ kinda my fault. Sorry about that, by the way.” She directs the last comment a little guiltily at Keith, who, once again looking as if he doesn't know what to do, gives a stiff nod.

After smiling tentatively at him, Pidge quickly adopts a serious expression, cracking her knuckles.

“How do I start?”

__________

Later that cycle, Korath fiddles with his higher quality garb, uncomfortable with the prospect of an official royal appearance.

Once he’d overseen Pidge complete that little task, with his aid (and he was both alarmed and strangely proud that she’d been able to do as he asked so easily), he’d made his way back to his rooms only to be accosted by a messenger that had informed him of an impending outing.

His father had apparently _said_ that this was a reward for how well he was doing in his current mission (and his heart sinks with guilt, at that, at war with his rebelling feeling of disgust at what he’d uncovered, and he doesn’t know what to _do,_ what to _think),_ but it felt more like a punishment.

He hated putting on a face for the masses, hated having to play the perfect Prince, hated that he had no idea how to charm his way into favor like Lotor did so effortlessly. His brother may be absent, working in their father’s name on the other side of the galaxy, but trying to live up to him in the eyes of the people made him feel like Lotor’s shadow was dogging his every step.

He could make himself unreadable, unreachable (at least, unless it came to three people in particular, who seemed to be able to drag out reactions he didn’t know himself capable of), but he couldn’t put up a false front like occasions such as these called for.

Despite his initial frustrations, he had been glad that, at least, being given a mission had allowed him to avoid this part of his life.

For a while.

“Prince Korath. Your father waits.”

Aaaand his time for avoidance was up. Korath sighs, straightens the clasp at his throat one last time, and then hesitates. Contemplating his reflection for a moment, he carefully blinks with only one eye.

His reflection ‘winks’ back at him.

How odd.

But also a kind of fun.

Promptly pretending it never happened, he sweeps out of the room.

__________

Zarkon grins with appreciation when he sees his youngest son approaching him, not a strand of fur out of place. While he values his eldest greatly, who he acknowledges to be Galra through and through, it was irritating to him, sometimes, to look at Lotor and see that disgusting race reflected in his features.

Really, he sneered to himself. He should have killed Lotor’s bitch of a mother earlier, shouldn’t have let her last so much longer than the rest of her race. By the time he’d actually gotten around to doing so, she had lived out her full life — longer than, actually, as he’d prolonged it like he had his own, until he’d decided the Empire was stable enough for an heir. She had been the last Altean alive.

Or so he had thought.

But regardless… she had been fun while she had lasted, and he had wanted some remanent of the Altean shape-shifting genes to remain in a way he could control.

So, overall, he was pleased with his son’s heritage.

But he appreciates that he had a son to carry on his lineage in a more pure way.

Korath stops before him, giving a little bow as he always does in public, as the Prince, rather than the salute he does in private, as the soldier.

Zarkon nods in acknowledgement and turns, trusting his son to fall into step behind him.

They walk, guards in front, behind, and lining their sides, escorting them more for show than anything else. If someone was foolish enough to try and attack the Emperor and his son, it was the royalty themselves who would provide the biggest threat.

He hadn’t just been _handed_ the title ‘Emperor,’ after all, and he had made sure his sons knew that they would have to fight to keep their positions in such a world as this.

Speaking of such things…

Finally, they arrive at their destination, his reward to his son. He glances back, noticing the Galra’s ears twitch as they lock on to the roar of the crowd, muffled by the walls.

He’d try to forcefully remove that tell, but he knows his son can keep it under control when necessary.

Facing the entrance once more, he dramatically pushes forward, theatrically throwing open the doors to reveal to the people their leader and his son.

A boom echoes throughout the stadium, and the energy of the crowd reaches new heights. He walks out onto the balcony, surveying the scene for a moment.

Korath comes to stand beside him, and although his son’s face is carefully neutral, he can see in the slight wideness of his eyes that he’s in awe.

Zarkon smirks.

“Just wait,” he mutters to him under his breath. “It gets better.”

He holds up a hand, and the thousands of people fall silent almost instantly.

He savors their obedience for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing it in, before he opens his mouth to roar right back at them.

“This will be no ordinary match!” He announces, voice echoing back to him as no-one dares so much as cough while he wants their attention. “This match is in honor of my son! I think perhaps it may be interesting for him to see something other than the pitiful scrambling most prisoners would provide!” He pauses briefly to let the ugly laughter of the crowd swell and then die out. “As such, today, we will see one of the strongest creatures, strengthened by our druids, face up against… the Champion!”

At this, the crowd breaks out into appreciative screams and growls of approval.

Zarkon lowers his hand, and nods at the guards next to him, who signal to the guards on the ground. The message travels, until the doors at one end of the floor are pulled open.

None other than the Champion himself emerges, and the crowd’s noise rises in pitch.

After letting the masses have their moment, Zarkon nods again, the same process repeating, until the doors at the other end are pulled open, and a truly horrifying _beast_ trundles out.

If Zarkon were not so smugly absorbed in proceedings, he would have noticed Korath stiffening at his side.

__________

An _accident._

He’d trawled desperately through prison file after prison file, and he locates a human prisoner by _accident._

It made him wonder whether he would have otherwise found them at all.

Worse still is that, once again, he can’t do anything.

He recognizes that type of form, those rounded ears, that coloring, that skeletal structure. This particular human looks nothing like Pidge, so he has to hope it’s the other of the three he was looking for, Takashi Shirogane.

If it’s not any of them…

But it has to be. Surely, they don’t have any _more_ human prisoners.

As soon as he realizes what’s happening, however, he almost wishes that that was the case.

Because he watches as the unthinking monster charges ‘Shiro’ again and again, every time tearing into the Champion a little more, who is clearly only dealing with it by blocking it out — he can see it in the empty eyes, the lack of presence, the slightly removed way the human… _interacts_ with the being — and he can’t do anything.

He knows now why prisoners slip through the cracks — he’s realized why guards don’t bat an eye at prisoners going missing — and he _can’t do anything._

Matches where prisoners fight to the death. That’s why they’re disappearing.

He’s a Prince, and he’s starting to wonder if that means anything, because he _can’t do anything._

The worst part is, he can’t quite muster up the shock he should be feeling. Oh, he could never have thought up something like this — the idea wouldn’t have even have crossed his mind — but he is so, _so_ bitterly unsurprised that the Emperor condones this. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems so very… _Zarkon._

So very much his _father._

Taking a deep breath, he pushes away the tangle of horrified emotion trying to squirm through him, resolving to examine his response at a later date, and composes himself.

He can’t do anything right now, but he’ll need to at some point.

So he makes himself blank, unreachable, and watches, and catalogues, and sees what information he can find.

He’s good at putting up an unfeeling front. He can even fool himself, which is something he really needs right now, as he examines the sight before him.

He ignores the blood, doesn't flinch at the near hits and misses, and instead _looks._

The human has a prosthetic metal arm.

A metal arm made from Galran tech. Worse still, made from druid magic. He’s been around Haggar enough that he recognized the stuff.

So, Haggar was having her fun trying to weaponize the human, this… Champion.

He could see why.

Because when he comes out of the match, which remains in his memory as nothing more than a horrifying, bloody blur, when he blankly thanks his father for an experience he refuses to try to recall, when he ignores what had happened in favor of searching the prisoner data banks using the key word ‘Champion,’ when he finds the cell number and starts to make his way down, he remembers one thing.

That human was quite the fighter.

__________

Shiro sits in his cell, and very carefully doesn’t think.

His most recent stint in the arena… it’s so clear in his mind, but he sees it from the point of view of someone else, of a spectator. He feels removed from it.

Wasn’t he supposed to be feeling shock, horror, grief… even depression or exhaustion?

He can’t feel anything.

Maybe something’s wrong with him. After everything, he wouldn’t be surprised. He wonders how he’ll remember these past… he doesn’t know how long it’s been (months… years… he doesn’t care anymore). If he ever gets out.

It was _if,_ now, not _when._

 _When_ had faded as the escape pod drifted away without him.

It’s disturbingly easy to not think, to not feel.

 _Better him than the others._ Over and over again, this is the one thought he’ll let in like a mantra. _At least he was sparing the others._

He sits in his cell, in the dark, and does nothing at all.

At least, until the door opens.

 _Ah,_ he thinks wearily, not looking up. _It’s that time again._

Better to look defeated than to make them think he’s still able to fight outside of the arena, too.

He stands, and only then does he look up.

And while he meets the yellow gaze of a Galra, as he’s gotten so used to doing, it’s not one he recognizes.

He struggles not to fall back into a defensive pose. He knows that if he makes it look like he was even _considering_ coming to blows with one of his captors, it won’t end well for him.

The door shuts behind his visitor with an ominous thud, and the cell fills with silence.

Shiro refuses to be the one to break the hush that settles over them. Instead, he takes the time to examine this stranger.

The Galra (male, he thinks) is quite young looking from what he can see, maybe even younger than himself. One of the more mammalian looking Galra, judging by the ears. Obviously high ranking, Shiro can deduce from the simple fact that he’s gotten anywhere near Haggar’s favourite _experiment,_ though his somewhat aristocratic garb is also a giveaway.

Pointed chin to match a sharper bone structure than most Galra, with their strong features, have. The fur on his head, reminiscent of human hair, is also considerably fuller and darker, to the point that at first glance you wouldn’t realize it was purple at all. He has slightly larger eyes, too, but that can be attributed to his younger age.

While muscled, it’s in a leaner way than many of his peers, and he’s short enough (comparatively) that while he wouldn’t stand out for it, it’s noticeable. He’s still a couple inches taller than Shiro, though.

There’s not much else to say, except…

Something about him seems different from Haggar, from the cruel guards, from the jeering crowds.

Maybe it’s in the way he holds himself. Blank, removed, such a contrast to the twisted delight Haggar and the crowds seem to share, different even from the mocking disdain afforded to him by everyone who wasn’t afraid of him.

Shiro can’t for the life of him figure out was his intent is.

And he doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing.

The Galra tilts his head, brushing aside the silent challenge of them both waiting for the other to make the first move.

And then says something he hasn’t heard in a long time.

“Is your name Takashi Shirogane, by any chance?”

He feels his eyes widen, and his tense form slackens as he processes the question. A stunned ‘yes’ almost escapes his lips before suspicion kicks in.

No-one has used that name for him since he arrived. Why would anyone start now?

“Who wants to know?” Despite the challenge in the words, his tone is even, measured.

“Me.”

Had that reply come from anyone else he’d encountered here, Shiro would have mentally added ‘so talk or else.’

The way it’s said, though, makes it seem tolerant, even a little playful.

He doesn’t know what to make of this Galra.

He switches tactics.

“How did you get in here?”

He assumed he must have been let in by Haggar or even Zarkon, but... that didn't quite make sense.

“I used my access chip.”

Well, _that’s_ not suspicious at all. Haggar had mentioned, multiple times, that she was the only one with an access chip to his cell, bar the Emperor, who wouldn’t care to have anything to do with his druid’s ‘pet projects,’ from what he could tell.

Haggar loved to make him wallow in his hopelessness, letting him know he was worthless enough that no-one aside from her had a vested interest in keeping him alive. But because she did, he warranted enough attention that his life was rather…

Unpleasant.

Though he supposes he brought this on himself, by not only surviving in the ring, but thriving.

But back to the matter at hand. Should he confront this Galra on his obvious bullshit, or play dumb?

Before he can decide, the Galra speaks again, and Shiro is struck by the impression that he’s choosing his words very carefully.

“Does the word ‘Holt’ mean anything to you?”

He freezes. Had they…?

_No. No, they can’t know, surely._

But he isn’t saying anything more, just in case.

He can’t outright deny knowing them. The Holts were captured alongside him. If he answers with a positive, however, he suspects it will open a line of questioning he’d rather avoid.

Instead of responding verbally, he simply lifts his chin a little, gaze hardening.

It’s a minor show of disobedience, but it’s enough to warrant some kind of retaliation.

No amount of retaliation will make him regret keeping silent.

To his surprise, however, while his visitor seems to read his unwillingness to cooperate in his expression, the Galra not only doesn’t retaliate at all, he lets the matter drop.

With an small nod, he turns to go.

Icy fear suddenly washes over Shiro. It was as if his non-response had told the stranger all he needed to know. _He couldn’t possibly… but what if he did know?_

“Wait.”

A pause.

The Galra faces him again.

Shiro finds himself at a loss for words. He can’t say anything in case he’d be providing his captors with information they didn’t already have, but he also can’t let this Galra waltz out of here when he doesn’t understand… when he just doesn’t _understand._

Who was he? Did he know? He didn’t want this visit to end by ensuring the continued pain of Sam and Matt.

Unable to give voice to anything else, he asks the first question. It would give him something, at least.

“Who are you?”

The Galra blinks at him, and seems to hesitate. Finally, he comes to a decision.

“To you? Keith.”

That… was a bizarre answer. What on earth was _that_ supposed to mean? All it really told him was that it wasn’t his real name.

And also… Shiro’s eyes widen as he takes in the full implication of that statement.

Keith was _not_ a Galra name.

Keith was a _human_ name.

How does he respond to that? What does he mean by it? Is he actually trying to… help?

‘Keith’ quirks an almost unnoticeable smile, and, after contemplating him for a moment as if considering his next action, slowly and deliberately _winks._

It’s stilted, and a little awkward, but _definitely_ a human gesture.

Inclining his head once more, ‘Keith’ finally makes his exit, but not before a final word, uttered in place of a ‘goodbye.’

“Shiro.”

And now ‘Keith’ apparently knew his nickname.

Mind reeling, Shiro collapses back onto his bed even as the door slides shut with a thunk behind the Galran.

Shiro _really_ doesn’t know what to make of him.

__________

 _Okay. This was good,_ Korath thought as he made his way back to his rooms.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that it would come true.

Yeah, he’d found one of the humans, who probably knew where the _other_ two, Pidge’s family, were, but said human was…

Possibly worse off than the Alteans.

Forced to fight to the death. Forced to kill. Experimented on, tormented, and without even the company Allura and Coran gave each other.

But he’d _found_ him.

What next?

The human obviously didn’t trust him, for good reason. Korath doubted Shiro had had any good experiences with the Galra, his people. Annoyingly, due to the cameras and microphones that were undoubtedly there, he hadn’t been able to say anything to convince him that he meant no harm, that he was simply trying to reunite a family.

He stops mid-stride, coming to a halt with a jerk.

When had his priority shifted to helping Pidge and the other humans over completing his mission for his father?

 _Probably when I made peace with committing treason,_ he internally groans. _Was that when I broke into a prohibited prison cell and showed mercy to an enemy race? Or was it later, when I helped conceal evidence of what was technically a crime, assaulting a Prince, just after I’d revealed important secrets of our Empire? Earlier, perhaps, when I lied to my father to keep the humans around for no good reason — or, at least, not one Zarkon would find acceptable._

 _Or maybe,_ he considers glumly, _it was from when I’d first offered help that protocol told me they didn’t deserve._

So who’s side was he on? He wanted this to end well for the humans, strangely enough.

He didn’t know what to do about the Alteans.

But was he really going to stand against his father?

Sure, familial bonds held little emotional weight, most of the time, for Galra. All they really did was consolidate loyalties and alliances. He held little affection for his elder brother, less so for his father, who had only ever been an authority figure to him.

His affection for his mother… Zarkon had told him that it was abnormal. He hadn’t quite believed that, having witnessed Lotor’s jealousy at Korath being able to spend even as little time as he did with his mother, but when he could no longer visit her, Lotor’s jealousy seemed to evaporate and Korath had thought that it had been directed at the fact that Korath had briefly had something he hadn’t, rather than any desire to know his _own_ mother.

He assumed it was different for humans, judging by Pidge. The defiance all of them had shown for each other at some point, most recently Shiro refusing to talk, proved that. It was one of the reasons he’d been so thrown by Pidge’s intensity and determination to find her family.

He hadn’t been aware that, for others, family meant caring, and apparently putting their needs above your own, when you could.

That was something he certainly didn’t have. Growing up, they had attempted to drill into him loyalty to the Empire and Emperor before anything else — even for the Prince, Zarkon had always been “Emperor” over “father.” He’d never been one to just swallow what he was given, though, and he hadn’t just dedicated himself because they’d _told_ him to.

He _had_ always been loyal to the Emperor and Empire, even if he never did what was asked of him to the letter — it was just that he’d made the decision to serve on his own (but he now realizes it was foolish of him to make decisions on what he saw, when, as a Prince, he’d clearly been blind to a lot). Sure, he didn’t mind breaking rules. He’d always been a ‘the end justifies the means’ kinda guy.

He was not happy with his finds, didn’t believe in the Empire or Emperor quite as much, but… going any further would almost certainly mean going to new depths of deception and maybe even betrayal.

Did he really want to break his loyalty? Ignore what had been a priority for him, most of his life? And how far is he willing to go, if so?

Assuming he can do anything more from here.

Maybe… maybe he can at least let the humans meet. He doesn’t think Shiro will be willing to speak to him alone about what he knows. If Shiro was as dedicated as the other humans were about protecting each other, he didn’t think the ‘Champion’ would so much as give a well timed cough if he believed Korath had bad intentions.

But how could he convince him that he could talk to Korath while avoiding incriminating himself? For that matter, he wasn’t sure he wanted whatever Shiro had to say to be recorded.

He did seem to have someone who could help in that regard, going by recent events. But… did he want to help them?

Could he do something like this, practically or otherwise?

Did he really need to tell them at all about his finds?

But what was the alternative?

He takes a deep breath, centering himself, and starts to walk forward once more at what he hopes comes across as a measured, calm, dignified pace. Not that anyone’s watching.

It seems he can’t afford to have anyone watching him anymore.

He's making this more complicated then it needs to be. As a Prince… Oh, who is he kidding, the only morals he has are his own, not taught or affiliated with his status.

But regardless, he keeps his word.

_I said I’d help._

So he will.

__________

The door slides open.

Lance opens his mouth to be insolent, as usual, because _wow,_ their captor was starting to visit often, but Keith speaks before he can make a peep.

“I found Shiro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A summary of Pidge in this chapter (and probably the next couple, if I'm being honest): *hacker voice* I'm in.
> 
> Hey, if waving away any explanation for Pidge's skills outside of "SCIENCE" is fine in the show, it'll do here.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I was a little worried that the plot progression in this chapter might seem a little too fast, but Korath did a lot of ~pondering~ so. Plus, my first attempt at Shiro! Feedback of any kind is, as always, appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah I'm so sorry this has taken about twice the time of the others -- got caught up in real life stuff. BUT IT'S DONE AND HERE! Aaaand not much happens in it, but STILL. Also, I JUST FRICKIN REALIZED THIS CHAPTER THAT KEITH IS BASICALLY ZUKO IN THIS STORY. Wow. Oh yeah, and I made up a name for Pidge's mother; if you know her real name, let me know!

  
“Are you sure?”

“For the last time, _yes_ , I’m sure! I can’t deal with that many cameras at once!” Pidge is starting to look incredibly agitated, her fists clenching even as she crosses her arms.

“Besides,” Hunk pipes up from where he’s slumped against the wall, deciding to intervene. “I don’t know that Shiro’ll want to talk at all. He’ll probably think you’re trying to trap him or something, if he and the Holts really _did_ have something to do with the escape pod.”

"That's why we need to get _you_ guys to meet! He won't talk to me, but _surely_ he'll talk to you?"

"Okay, so _we_ meet him. We still need to deal with the cameras," Lance remarks.

Keith spreads his arms in an exasperated motion, and Hunk thinks to himself that the Galran is becoming more animated and less unreachable every day.

How many days _had_ it been? Around a week, maybe?

“Do you want answers or not?”

Lance makes a gesture of surrender, silently asking for patience. “I mean, we do, _obviously,_ but we’d like to get them in a way that won’t end in disaster. Honestly, man, we’re just thinking this through.”

Hunk is startled to find that he now knows Keith well enough that he can tell the alien is rolling his eyes heavenward.

“Okay, so what you’re saying is, you can’t stop the cameras from recording what’s happening, you can only do damage control afterwards.”

“Yes, and believe me Keith, I am _trying_ , okay? I need this meeting to happen, but I just can’t…” Pidge throws head down into her hands.

“Aaargh! I have to find them! What if they’re going through what Shiro is? I want to do better, I _need_ to do better, but this is _alien_ tech! Look, I’m good with this stuff, but I’m not _magic._ Wiping one the first time was hard enough. The most I could do is wipe them all afterwards, but you run the risk of someone seeing it as its happening or before I get to it.”

Brow furrowing, Keith begins to pace as he replies.

“Yeah, but the alternative to _that_ is someone possibly seeing an empty room, and me leading you... where?”

“Is anyone going to _look?”_ Lance asks skeptically.

Keith stills, his expression becoming more solemn, reinforcing the seriousness of what they’re actually discussing.

“We'd better hope not.”

Illegal. What they were thinking of doing was illegal. They were conspiring with their captor who they didn’t actually know much about and who was the only one they’d seen in days and what if this was a trap oh man he really thinks this could be a bad idea —

Wait. Stop. Hunk closes his eyes and wills his heart to stop racing.

Keith had already helped them wipe one camera. If he wanted to, he could have used _that_ incident of them tampering to make things worse for them. And honestly, why would he? What motive could he have? They were already captives, they could be killed at any moment, Keith didn’t _need_ to ‘trap’ them into incriminating themselves, he already had evidence of that at his disposal. In fact, from the way things were run around here, Hunk doubted he needed evidence.

Honestly, if Shiro was… if he had endured what Keith had somewhat evasively but succinctly described as “prisoner death matches put on for entertainment,” then Hunk is willing to bet more prisoners had, too. This Empire was _not_ hesitant about using excessive violence.

Even if Keith has no discernible motive for helping them beyond being weirdly nice about finding out what happened with the escape pod, he also has no reason to betray them

And Pidge needs to find her family.

Hunk just has to be brave.

"Okay, so we can’t do this as our situation is now. So, what can we do to change that?”

They all stop, trying to figure out how to get themselves out of this.

Pidge finally provides a glum comment. “Look, I could maybe, _maybe_ block the cameras for five minutes, max, but that’s it, and it doesn’t really solve our problem.”

Keith sighs, and silence falls again before he speaks.

“How about this. For now, it looks like getting you all to… meet up, I suppose, isn’t going to work. Let’s at least see if we can move Shiro somewhere more… accessible. That should make things easier, and it would hopefully get him away from…”

He trails off, unwilling to speak what they all already know, before continuing.

“Anyway, if I can get him in a room like this, maybe he _would_ talk to me, at least.”

Pidge looks up, hopeful. “Can… can you do that?”

Keith looks uncertain, before his expression hardens.

“I need to.”

__________

A day, or cycle or whatever, after his encounter, and Shiro is still pacing the (admittedly short) length of his cell. Perhaps he should sleep — if he is to be able to survive in the arena… But he can’t stop thinking about the strange Galra.

Was he a possible ally? Was he just… curious? And what about Matt and Sam?

Had they… No. Don’t even think it.

And… he can’t let himself hope. He can’t be let down again.

He can’t afford it.

He’s thinking himself in circles. Agitatedly, he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

He needs to sleep.

He can’t.

He keeps pacing.

He paces right up until the door to his cell opens and several guards charge in, forcing him onto his knees and into handcuffs.

“Move,” the largest growls at him, and they push him out of the room.

__________

“You let your son do _what?”_

Zarkon eyes her coldly. “Hold your tongue, witch.”

She does not heed the clear warning in his tone, and Haggar stalks closer to the throne, hissing. “This experiment has been the most successful of any, and you are withdrawing it from me for some petty mission you gave to the Prince as a _test?”_

The Emperor sneers at her, but he remains tolerant. “Calm yourself. This is but temporary. You do not require your experiment every cycle, and I doubt we will ever see any use of him outside of entertainment. My son requested access to him to aid the completion of his mission, and I saw no harm in this… arrangement. You can stand a little time without having your fun.” His eyes glitter as he leans forward slightly.

“Of course, I’m sure you’ll be most agreeable to this, druid.”

Haggar, still silently fuming and sure the Emperor knows it, gives a clipped bow, and then deliberately turns her back on him as she leaves.

Most would die for daring to do such a thing.

She is not most.

Sometimes she forgets that she is not the only one. Of course the Prince has Zarkon’s ear.

Seizing control of her magic, she forces her focus onto it as she makes her way back to her rooms, attempting to calm herself, returning to logic and reason.

No matter. She can adapt. The ‘Champion’ was not her only… investment. If it’s the Prince, Haggar supposes a few cycles without the human are acceptable.

Normally she would… _retaliate_ for another mistreating her so — she did not just happen to fall into favor, after all. It must be known that she will not be crossed.

However, in the case of the Prince, she knows her efforts are futile. She recognizes that he has power over her, simply through his stronger connection to Zarkon. Haggar and Korath are currently… not opposed to each other. Should she make that no longer the case, well. It would accomplish nothing, other than perhaps alienating both the Emperor and his son.

But that he stole her experiment out from under her nose…

As if stealing her access chip wasn’t enough. As if invading on the matter with the _Alteans_ wasn’t enough.

Very deceptive of him. Very unlike his father.

Then again, she supposes, how very like his mother.

What a troubling thought.

She smiles to herself in amusement as she retreats to her chambers. Of course, unlike his mother, young Korath is under their thumb. He probably only went over her head to Zarkon because he believed his mission to be of utmost importance to the Empire.

_How foolish of him._

Still…

Perhaps she’ll need to keep a closer eye on him.

__________

Aaaand now Shiro has found himself in another cell. Great. It’s definitely a _nicer_ cell, but after escorting him through endless twisting walkways, they’d tossed him unceremoniously in here without removing his cuffs, and he wasn’t feeling optimistic.

Something had changed.

He just didn’t know what, or, probably more importantly, _why._

Usually, he’s patient. He’s had to be, as over the past year, all he’s done is… visit… the arena and Haggar respectively, with long stretches of nothing in between.

It’s not as if he wasn’t patient before, but recently that skill has become especially developed.

Or maybe he’s just learned not to think. That too.

However, now, he’s tight with nerves. First, the strange Galra, inquiring about the Holts, and then, for the first time since Haggar took an interest in him, guards had entered his cell and manhandled him, and _then_ he was given the first new cell since he got here, and it was _higher quality?_

He didn’t trust this. At all.

Had they caught on…? _Please, don’t let them know._

Without any other outlet, he goes right back to pacing. No way he’ll be sleeping now, and he doesn’t think they’ll leave him alone for long, anyway.

He’s right.

His frantic dance of furiously thinking and alternately trying not to think means he doesn’t now how long it’s been before he’s alerted to another entering the room.

He spins, unsurprised but wary, to face ‘Keith.’

Well, that pretty much confirms his suspicions that the strange Galra was involved in his relocation.

He still doesn’t know why.

Thankfully, the Galran once again breaks the silence.

“Would you please tell me whatever you know about two humans by the name of ‘Holt’?”

 _Is that why he brought me in here? Trying to butter me up for information?_ _Not likely. Do they really think I survived this long by being stupid?_

Shiro stays silent.

“You can talk, if you want. There _is_ a camera in this room, but there’s no microphone, so you can speak freely.”

Shiro can’t suppress a snort. _Yeah, right._

‘Keith’ sighs. “Look, I don’t mean any harm. I just need to find the Holts. I’m trying to reunite them with a relation of theirs, Pidge.”

Now Shiro’s eyes really narrow. As far as he knows, Matt and Sam don’t _have_ any relation named Pidge. There’s Sophia, Sam’s wife and Matt’s mother, and Katie, Matt’s sister.

Figures. This really _is_ just a ploy of some kind to try and wheedle information on the Holts out of him — they must suspect. He is a little surprised, though, that they were approaching an interrogation from this angle. From his experience, the Galra didn’t seem to think anything beyond violence or the threat of violence were required for things such as this.

‘Keith’ must read something in his expression, because he looks frustrated.

“I’m not going to force you to say anything you don’t want. I’m really not trying to harm you. I just…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, claws pressing into purple skin, and Shiro is struck with the impression that this is the closest he’s come to seeing any of the Galra act like… well, like a normal person.

That’s not enough to make Shiro trust him, though.

“Look, as long as you’re in here, Haggar can’t get to you, and you won’t be forced to fight in the arena. No matter what you do or don’t say. I’d _like_ you to talk to me, though.”

He pauses, almost as if he’s hoping Shiro will say… _anything,_ but when he doesn’t, he sighs one last time and makes as if to go.

And then Shiro decides he may as well get _something_ out of this meeting.

“How long will I be here? Haggar’s going come get me eventually.”

‘Keith’ locks eyes with him.

“We’ll see about that.”

As the door shuts behind him, Shiro’s suspicion is almost impossibly increased. ‘Keith’ thought he could stand against the druid?  

Who on earth was he?

__________

“Well that didn’t work.”

Hunk is almost expecting Pidge or Keith to rebuke Lance’s comment, but they must be thinking the same thing, as Hunk knew he himself was.

“Yeah. He doesn’t trust me, and just like we thought, he won’t say anything because he thinks I have bad intentions.”

Pidge, frustrated, pulls off her glasses, adding tightly, “I think the camera’s also a factor. First, it sounds like he doesn’t believe that there’s no microphone, and second, I just think he doesn’t want any kind of record of him admitting anything, visual or otherwise. Whatever he has to say, it must be… big.” She bites her lip, looking away with a conflicted expression painting itself across her features.

“It looks like the only way to get him to talk is to get him to meet you guys face to face — that’s probably the only proof he’ll take, and to add to that, he won’t talk with any kind of surveillance recording the encounter,” Keith mutters.

Lance throws his hands up in exasperation. “So we’re back to square one! We have to talk, and there’s no way we want anyone to see us talking, but it’s Big Brother central in space, apparently!”

No-one really has a retort to that. They lapse into silence for a moment, Pidge proceeding to fiddle furiously with her glasses, Keith staring silently at the floor with his brow furrowed, and Lance anxiously watching them both. Hunk, for his part, doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He has no idea how to plan their way out of this — stealth and trickery were not his strong suits, and besides, he didn’t have near enough information to provide input. He lets his eyes restlessly rove over each of his… companions? Maybe teammates plus Keith.

Finally, his gaze rests on Pidge.

Their resident tech genius is hunched in on herself, spine taut with tension and face crumpled in desperation. Her hands have stilled in their twitching, instead cradling her glasses close to her face as she gazes at them with suspiciously shiny eyes.

Watching her, it suddenly hit Hunk like a ton of bricks how hard this must be. He’d offered her comfort over the course of their stint in the prison cell whenever she got particularly upset, but mostly she’d been stressed and worried, emotions which sometimes expressed themselves as anger.

Now, though, she has the answers to what happened to her family, and a possibility of finding them, right within her grasp, and if he knows her, she feels the only reason she doesn’t have them already is because she isn’t good enough to find a way to get them.

For someone as smart and wilful as Pidge, that must be a new experience, and coupled with what a dire and emotional situation this is…

Wordlessly, Hunk slides off of his bed and walks over to seat himself next to her, carefully wrapping his arms around her smaller form. For a split second as he pulls her towards him, Pidge looks like she’s going to protest, but an instant later melts against him. She brings her arms up, twisting her fingers into the fabric at his shoulders, and turns her face against his chest. Hunk rests his chin on her head, meeting the gaze of the other human in the room.

Lance looks a bit startled at this development, but after a moment also approaches and sits with them, silently offering support.

When Hunk raises his eyes to check, Keith seems to be determinedly avoiding looking at them. Their jailer shows all signs of being distinctly uncomfortable, crossing his arms in front of his chest with his ears pressed back, and even tapping his index finger twice, sharply, against his upper arm.

But to Hunk’s (and Lance’s, from his priceless facial expression) shock, after hunching his shoulders up and looking incredibly apprehensive, he slowly makes his way over, leaning his tall frame against the nearest wall to them.

Lance, looking incredibly conflicted, raises his eyebrows at Keith with a confused twist to his lips. The Galra just shifts awkwardly, huffing and giving the impression that he’s preparing to (verbally) defend himself.

Before Hunk can brace himself to break up… something, he gets the barest warning of Pidge stiffening in his arms before she suddenly tears herself away from him, springing to her feet with a manic look in her eyes.

Wildly, she raises her arm to point sharply at the Galra.

“Keith! Tell me about aliens!”

__________

 _This is stupid,_ Korath thinks to himself the following cycle. _This is suicidally stupid. This is so stupid we’ll all probably die because of how stupid it is._

All of that, however, doesn’t stop the slight thrill of adrenaline fueled fun that runs through him as he meets his father’s gaze and tells him no.

“You wish to be excused from attending the war council next cycle?” Zarkon parrots back to him in slightly icy tones.

‘War council’ was not entirely accurate, Korath thought. It was a mass debriefing, in which the commanders of all the war vessels in the fleet would call in via holograph (Zarkon was not stupid enough to call the most important officers all to one area at the same time) and meet with each other, the Emperor, and Haggar.

And Korath.

Korath hated attending them — each of the officers would give their report in the most boring way possible, monotone and all, and the whole thing usually devolved into petty squabbling. Korath suspected Zarkon encouraged this, as it made it less likely for any one of them to gain enough favour that they could try to usurp him.

The Emperor leans back in his chair, and although his features are arranged in a coldly displeased expression, Korath can see a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“What excuse do you have to get out of it this time?”

Korath has halfheartedly attempted to ditch them before, but this is the only time he’s genuinely tried.

If Zarkon doesn’t like what he has to say…

“It’s the Champion, sir.”

Zarkon remains impassive, and Korath takes that as an invitation to elaborate.

“As I have… _questioned_ him, I have noticed that Haggar has done more to him than you may have believed. As it stands, nothing too risky has taken place, but the human’s prosthetic arm retains some startling similarities to that of Commander Sendak’s. Were Haggar to continue along this line, we may be unable to contain the Champion for much longer.”

His father shows no signs of understanding what Korath is implying, although Korath knows that he’s piqued his interest.

“What does this have to do with your attendance at the next war council?”

“I require an extended period of time to, shall we say, break him down, as his _experiences_ with the druid have left him with a high tolerance for our _methods._ Only continuous pain will have a chance of getting through to him, and I hope to gather information on both his arm and the escapees. I also hope that I can, perhaps, spend some time examining his arm without risk of Haggar being alerted and… interfering.”

Korath struggles to remain impassive even as he holds his breath. It’s risky, trying to play Zarkon against Haggar in such a way, but he knows that this sort of information will not serve to create any major break between the two — at most, it will irritate Zarkon enough that he may suspend some of Haggar’s privileges. If he _did_ come to his father with any sort of major information against the druid, it would both make Zarkon suspicious of Korath and Haggar more of a problem.

Another reason that this lie might work is that it’s not exactly a lie. It’s the truth — partly, at least. The part about implied _torture_ is the only real lie. _And how sad is it, that he's come to recognize that this is the behavior expected of him?_

He _does_ intend to try and find out about the escapees, and he doesn’t want Haggar around — he’s omitting that he _also_ doesn’t want _Zarkon_ around.

The Emperor does not move, does not react to his words. There is a long silence as he contemplates his son, and Korath forces himself to be at ease, neutral, projecting the image of an officer simply reporting to a superior.

Finally, Zarkon speaks.

“You really are quite eager to involve yourself in the workings of the Empire, all of a sudden. I don’t think you’ve flown or sparred for quite a few cycles, now.”

 _Quiznak._ Korath mentally curses himself. How out of it has he been? Aside from the fact that he needs to stay on top of his training in order to make sure his skills don’t atrophy, there is nothing more out of character than for him to _not_ stay on top of his training.

_Congratulations on definitely not acting suspiciously at all, Korath._

“I apologize for letting my regimen fall to the wayside. I have merely been caught up in both attempting to deal with my mission thoroughly and tying up the loose ends that my investigation has stirred up. I am only glad to finally be of use to you, in any way I can be.”

That should do. It explains away his odd behavior and adds yet another reason for his request.

To his nearly crippling relief, Zarkon seems to think so as well.

“Very well,” his father responds in a clipped tone. “You may sit out of this meeting, providing that you return to your training, reduced or not. But in exchange, Korath, I expect to have the matter with the humans to be sorted out within the next five cycles. If you have not done so by then, the humans will be executed regardless, seeing as the don’t appear to have any relevant information — including the Champion. As… entertaining as the creature’s been, if what you say is true, it may not be worth the risk of keeping him around. This matter is shaping up to be a waste of time, and you may be of more use elsewhere. Dismissed.”

_What?_

It’s as if he’s been doused in ice water, his blood freezing and his lungs becoming brittle — he swears he can feel them crackling as he breathes.

Thankfully, he’s smart enough to give no indication of this.

Korath salutes crisply, making sure to leave at a measured pace, putting all he has left into looking unaffected.

_Quiznak. Quiznak quiznak quiznak._

He feels sick to his stomach. He _knew_ that this was a colossally stupid idea, but he didn’t actually think it would be _this_ bad, hadn’t really thought it would end in _death_ for any of them.

He can’t get them killed.

They _need_ to get to the bottom of the matter with the escape pod. If they don’t…

But even if he does, it sounds like they’ll be killed anyway. Stupid, he was so, so _stupid._ He should have kept the matter of them off of Zarkon’s mind, shouldn’t have approached him and irritated him into… that.

Although… what else could he have done? He couldn’t let everything hang in limbo forever — that would be far more suspicious.

What could he do? What _should_ he do? He can’t just let them all… die. They seemed his age, which he only now realizes is very, very _young._ And Shiro… Shiro was also young, but he had already suffered so much. Korath wanted his misery to end, but not like _that._ He didn’t want him to _die_ after surviving so long just because Korath dragged him into this mess.

How can he stop this, though?

_One thing at a time._

He takes a breath.

Technically, they’d achieved their goal — he was out of the war meeting.

Maybe he could still solve this. For now, however, the humans didn’t need an added worry to their already numerous ones.

He can resolve his mission, probably. If he finds out about what really happened with the escape pod, he can at least have a _chance_ of the humans surviving.

Time to start putting their plan into action.

__________

Now that he has more time, being away from both the pits and Haggar (even if he’s doubtful it will last), Shiro ruminates over yet more differences between ‘Keith’ and the other Galra he’s encountered. He has realized that ‘Keith’ may be the first one to treat him like a person. ‘Keith’ addressed Shiro, oddly enough, more like one would an equal than a higher up would a prisoner, who as far as they were concerned barely qualified as _people._

He’d been in this new cell two cycles now, and ‘Keith’ had visited him three more times, but only to deliver food (and finally remove Shiro's handcuffs, the first time he'd returned). He would remain as Shiro ate, patiently, as if waiting for him to say something, and when Shiro didn’t, he wouldn’t push him to. He only took the bowl and left.

In fact, not only was he not pushing Shiro to provide information he clearly wanted, he also wasn’t enforcing the subservient behaviour Shiro should have been displaying. Shiro hadn’t met his eyes once since their last conversation, and had all but ignored him apart from taking the food (Shiro had long gotten past the stage of refusing to eat out of suspicion — if he was weak, he was dead).

And ‘Keith’ didn’t seem to particularly unhappy with him for it.

Shiro didn’t trust it.

Another thing ‘Keith’ did differently was the way he entered the room. There was no fanfare, he made no dramatic entrances or exits as Haggar loved to, as many Galra seemed to love to. He just… _walked_ in, like normal people did.

Like right now.

However, this time, he isn't alone.

The door opens, and Shiro’s mouth drops open as he takes in three other _humans_ standing behind ‘Keith,’ one looking remarkably similar to _Matt._

_Katie…?_

Before he can restart his brain, however, ‘Keith’ speaks.

“The cameras in this room and immediately outside it are off, but only briefly. This isn’t an escape, so don’t try, but I won’t bother restraining you if you follow me, right now. Will you do that?”

What the hell was going on? Was this a trap? If it was, it wasn’t a very good one. Surely, he couldn’t be penalized for following the commands of his jailer — not that they needed an excuse to do _anything_ they wanted to him.

Disregarding what 'Keith' said, _should_ he use this to escape?

 _No,_ he thinks immediately. Even as this gave him a way out of his cell, it by no means gave him a way off the ship. If he tried to run, he was a dead man.

And ‘Keith’ must know it.

So what was this?

Well.

What else could he do? He’d never find out if he didn’t go, and he definitely wanted to find out what the deal with the humans was.

Shiro nods.

‘Keith’ smiles in a shockingly non-sinister way.

“We have five ‘minutes.’ We need to get moving.”

Even with all his months in the arena, Shiro doesn’t know he’s moved so fast in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much entering and exiting cells. So. Much.
> 
> Hope it was worth the wait! Even if it wasn't, I hope you enjoyed nevertheless! More of Pidge as a "hacker" (bearing in mind that I have no idea what that kind of stuff entails), but now with bullshit limitations in order to advance the plot! Seriously though, Keith/Korath=Zuko. It was when I wrote 'war council' that the connection finally clicked. Oh well, the fandom already made jokes about the two characters seeming similar, plus Lance being "space Sokka," so this is apparently just me expanding on the connection :P
> 
> The next chapter will likely also have a wait, because more REAL LIFE EVENTS, but hopefully after that things'll settle down for a few weeks. If you're confused about what happened in this chapter, don't worry! I was kinda vague on purpose, but it WILL be explained next chapter. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT I DID INSTEAD OF WHAT I SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING? THIS!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who responded last chapter, it was really encouraging! THE PLOT MOVES FORWARD THIS TIME! I hope my reasoning in this chapter makes sense, but if it doesn't, feel free to tell me!
> 
> I give an estimated measurement at one point, but I have no concept of measurement, so just imagine a large, dim, empty room.
> 
> This one is longer than usual, and may also seem a bit rushed, because I finished it today on a whim, and I knew I wouldn't be likely to put it up anytime soon if I didn't today, so... here ya go! I hope you enjoy anyway!

Shiro grows tense after just a few steps. The humans had grinned at him tentatively initially, the biggest giving him a small wave, but they are now silent. The biggest and the skinny one look to each other somewhat nervously, just quick, darting glances — some directed at Shiro, but only ever for a split second.

The… one who was possibly Katie, however, would occasionally stare at him steadily, unflinchingly, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out the complex twist of emotions evident in their gaze.

Shiro still couldn’t get a reading on ‘Keith.’ The Galran’s back was to him as he led the way — ‘Keith’ seemed to be the only one who actually knew where they were going. This particular observation makes Shiro uncomfortable, but he refuses to doubt himself now.

Doubting will only get him killed.

They walk for a surprisingly short amount of time, and Shiro notes that as they move into even more deserted hallways, ‘Keith’ gets more uncomfortable, more wary. Even stranger, the humans seem to unconsciously pick up on his mood and mirror it.

It was all very… odd.

Only a maximum of three minutes after they left, they arrive at… their destination, he supposes. To him, it looks like just another cell, and while he must admit that it’s strange that there are no guards outside, there had _also_ been no guards outside his own new cell.

Three of his four… companions… however, react with incredible trepidation (well, in possibly-Katie’s case, perhaps ‘anticipation’ was a better word).

They all still, staring at the door with widened eyes and a nervous air, possibly-Katie chewing on their lip.

‘Keith’ is the only one who shows a lack of hesitation, but Shiro suspects that that is not because he doesn’t feel any — he acts like someone who’s had the habit of showing any perceived weakness drilled out of him.

Shiro knows from experience what that looks like.

‘Keith’ strides forward without so much as a pause, sliding a chip across the access panel at the door. It slides open silently, seamlessly, and ‘Keith’ enters, not bothering to check if the rest of them follow him. As he’s swallowed by the wall of darkness within, Shiro stops short of going in after him.

He can’t see what’s inside the cell.

_This could be a trap._

‘Keith’ isn’t there to try and stop him…

_He could run._

Before he can let his thought process push him into overthinking it, he steps inside.

He, however, unlike ‘Keith,’ looks behind him to check that the other three follow.

They do.

With an ominous lack of noise, the door seals them inside.

_No turning back now._

Shiro’s eyes slowly adjust to the dimly lit room, and he automatically assesses his surroundings. The cell is actually rather spacious, maybe four hundred square feet, with a transparent wall splitting it in two. Most of the space, however, is not put to good use — or any sort of use at all, actually. The only things in each half is…

“May I ask what on Altea is going on here?”

The source of this query is a woman that Shiro can only describe as elven, who lies strapped to a metal table tilted at a forty five degree angle in the centre of the room. She looks as though she was very beautiful once, with dark skin and white hair, though neither look to be in good shape at the moment. She looks very human — the only thing that reveals she’s not are her ears and the pink markings under her eyes.

The other half of the room also seems to have an inhabitant in a similar position, though he looks to be in slightly better condition. Shiro can’t get close enough to examine the male as clearly, but from what he can see, the other alien is of the same species, older looking with paler skin, red hair (and a moustache), and bright blue markings.

“What are you playing at, Galran?” The male snarls at ‘Keith.’

Shiro files away the fact that the female spoke with a vaguely British lilt to her words while the male had an what could be an Australian, though maybe more likely Kiwi, accent to puzzle over later.

‘Keith’ raises an eyebrow at the male, and turns instead to address the female.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, and I’ll explain why I’m here in a moment — I didn’t come for you, but for the room.”

For the first time since they’d started this little escapade, ‘Keith’ turns back to Shiro.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, directing the apology towards both Shiro and the room’s inhabitants, “that this meeting had to take place here. We couldn’t block any of the cameras for more than five minutes, and that’s not enough time for us to talk to you, or you to us. Had we tried, it’s likely the camera would have caught us all in the room together before we could so much as open our mouths, which is something we can’t risk, even if it’s likely no-one would have seen the footage. Besides, even with us telling you that risk of recording was out of play, you probably wouldn’t have taken any chances. Am I correct?"

Shiro scrutinises him for a moment, before cautiously nodding. He can’t deny that, even after seeing the other humans, that alone wouldn't have him spilling his guts. He's learned better than to take people by their word without action to back it up.

“None of that explains why we're _here,_ though."

‘Keith' tilts his head slightly in a considering gesture. “This was the best we could do, extra witnesses or not. Besides, I take it that neither of these two will be willingly telling any Galra anything."

He turns to face the female, who gives a grim not-quite-smile. It's more of a sardonic twist of the lips than anything. Taking that as confirmation, 'Keith' turns back to Shiro.

“We decided that it was better someone potentially see an empty room and be suspicious than actually witness proof of... misconduct. As such, we needed a room everyone could speak freely in. This room is it.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows.

'Keith' takes the hint and explains.

“There are no cameras in this room, no guards, and no-one else can get in. The only people who can enter are currently occupied, and will _remain_ occupied for a long while. This is the only way to ensure there’s no evidence of anything happening. If you want to talk without risk of the information getting out, now would be the time.”

Shiro eyes him warily.

_Yeah, there’s no-one to hear me except six people I don’t know._

But three of those were human. Surely that meant something, especially with how young they looked?

“You talk first.”

If he was expecting frustration from ‘Keith,’ it’s not what he gets.

“Alright, that’s a fair request.” He concedes patiently, dipping his head in acknowledgement. “The prisoners in this room are Allura,” he gestures to the female, “and Coran,” he waves a hand at the clear wall.

“The humans are-”

“I’m Lance,” the skinny one introduces himself in a manner he seems to believe to be suave, but comes across more as excitement. “This guy here is my buddy Hunk,” he throws an arm over the big one’s shoulders, pulling him closer, “and the small one is-”

“I’m Katie Holt.”

_I knew it._

Katie, with the air of someone who can wait no longer, strides towards him. “Can you _please_ tell me about my family?” Her eyes spark with determination barely covering desperation even as she tilts her face up defiantly to meet his gaze.

Shiro’s heart breaks a little. Katie was so _young,_ and here she was, left believing who knows what about her family, then ending up in the same godawful situation that he, Sam and Matt had, and _then_ soldiering on anyway.

_That takes a lot of strength._

But he can’t quite extinguish his suspicion.

_Why the hell is she here? She shouldn’t be here…_

“How on Earth did you guys get here?”

Hunk breaks in. “We are… or _were_ part of Galaxy Garrison. We were all students there, and, well, we were too curious for our own good. Or should I say,” he glares at Lance, _“some_ of us were.”

“Hey!”

_Please don’t let that mean that the Galra have gotten to Earth…?_

They were all screwed if that was the case.

“What Hunk is trying to say,” Katie raises her voice to carry over the others, “is that we somewhat ill-advisedly explored what turns out to have been a crashed Galra escape pod in our search for answers about the Kerberos mission.”

Shiro frowns. “What do you mean, ‘search for answers’? Why didn’t you leave that to the investigators to do? Katie, doing that was very dangerous-”

 _“Obviously_ it was, but I had no _choice!”_ Katie explodes, gesturing wildly at him. “I couldn’t leave it to the investigators because _no-one_ _else_ _was_ _investigating!_ Everyone else thinks the crew from the Kerberos mission is _dead,_ Shiro. The Garrison claimed there was a crash and attributed it to pilot error!”

He freezes in shock. _What?_

He had known that there was no way — or had _thought_ there was no-way — that any humans would find him, but he had at least thought people were _looking_.

That apparently no-one was hurts him more than he was expecting.

 _But_ _that’s_ _not_ _quite_ _true,_ he thinks as he eyes Hunk, Lance and Katie. _And_ _the_ _few_ _who_ were _looking_ _did_ _find_ _me,_ _I_ _suppose_.

Wait.

“…Escape pod…?” Shiro inquires slowly.

“Yeah, that’s what brought us here. We went inside and got picked up by the Galra Empire. Keithy-boy here-"

“Stop calling me that.”

“-was assigned to look into the matter, which is why he is graced with our delightful company. Fun times, right?” Lance answers him with what Shiro thinks is unnecessary sarcasm (and apparently Keith _was_  the Galra's name, or at least the name he was using), but his brain has kicked into overdrive and he can’t respond.

_The escape pod. This was our fault._

Shiro feels sick to his stomach.

“Do you _know_ anything about that escape pod?” Keith inquires carefully, sharp eyes taking in his reaction.

“Yes.” Guilt threatens to crush him.

“What about my family? Can you please give me some answers now?” Hope starts to replace the desperate anger in Katie’s expression.

“Yeah.”

There’s a silence.

“Well… _will_ you?” Hunk asks after a moment.

“Yeah, just… give me a minute.” He breathes in, slowly, deeply, and wills his head to stop spinning.

_Okay. You can do this. You owe them answers, if nothing else._

“The mission… we were just finishing up the mission when we were picked up by the Galra. I don’t know why, they just… grabbed us. Sam was deemed too old, but we were… Matt and I were forced to fight in the arena.”

Katie inhales sharply, meeting his gaze with wide, terrified eyes.

Shiro realizes what she must think and trips over himself to reassure her, hands pushed out to frantically pacify.

“No, no! No, it’s okay, Katie. I… I injured him, so they wouldn’t make him fight. They dragged him away… After that, I didn’t see them for what must have been months. I was forced to fight, and a druid by the name of Haggar took a liking to me. Gave me this.” He holds up his prosthetic arm.

Everyone in the room stares at it in silence for a moment.

Even Keith looks upset, which at this point, shouldn’t surprise Shiro as much as it does.

“The Galra Empire is a corrupt, horrifying, cruel abomination,” Allura finally breaks in bitterly.

Shiro glances at Keith, not sure what kind of reaction that will garner from the Galra, but Keith just rubs a hand over his face.

“Is that all?”

“No.” Shiro responds quietly. “Like I said, I didn’t see them for months, but then a few weeks ago, They ambushed me briefly when I was waiting to enter the arena for a fight. I’m not sure exactly how — I think they slipped in between guard shifts, maybe wiped the cameras afterwards. That holding area is more lax in security than my cell. It was a brief visit, but they said they’d found a way to escape. The only reason they hadn’t gone already is that they were trying to get to me. Told me to meet them by a specific docking bay at a specific time, gave me instructions and everything.”

He sighs.

“I tried, but I couldn’t get away early enough. I guess they must have been on a time limit or something — like I said, I don’t know how most of this happened — ‘cause I got there just in time to see them float away without me.”

Katie looks at him with wide eyes.

“They… they got away?”

“Must’ve.” Shiro responds. “They programmed it to get to Earth, the Garrison specifically since those were the only co-ordinates they'd memorised where they knew they could land without killing anyone or destroying anything. And from what you guys said, it got there.”

“Then why didn’t we run into them when we went out to investigate?” Lance asks with a furrowed brow.

“Well, we couldn’t get out to the crash site until a few hours later — it was miles away from the Garrison. That gave them plenty of time to abandon ship,” Hunk reasons.

“But wouldn’t they have shown up at the Garrison?” Lance shoots back.

“Dude, do you really think the first thing two escapees are gonna do is report in? No way. they probably tried to make it home!”

Katie ignores her companions, fragile hope edging into her features.

“They’re alive? They’re okay? They made it… home?”

“Sounds like it,” Shiro tells her softly, managing a gentle smile.

Katie then promptly bursts into tears and flings herself at him. It’s only incredible self-discipline that allows Shiro to clamp down on months of survival instinct in order to hug her back rather than attack her.

Slowly, he weaves his fingers into her soft hair and lets her cry.

__________

  
Ah, more emotional displays. Korath still can’t quite get the hang of how to react to those. He elects to ignore it, and instead mulls over the information that has just been handed to him.

Well. It seems his mission was finished.

Was that really a good thing? It turns out there _had_ been escapees. And not one, as Zarkon had insisted, but two.

What was he to do now?

He could inform Zarkon of what had truly happened in the hope that the humans may be spared, which would mean Zarkon would give chase, track down the Holts, and kill them. Possibly he would decimate the whole area, just to be on the safe side.

He may bring his wrath down on the whole _planet_.

Even if they survived, Pidge would never forgive him for letting that happen. None of them would.

And how to explain where he got the information from? If he revealed Shiro’s part in this, Shiro was definitely dead.

But if he didn’t wrap up his investigation, _all_ of them were definitely dead.

He could lie, pretend that no-one had been on it. But he wouldn’t be able to prove it, and Zarkon may be equally unhappy with that answer.

What could he do? What information did he have to get himself out of this?

Maybe…

Maybe it wasn’t _what_ he knew that could help him. Maybe it was _who_ he knew.

There was no way that two prisoners had been able to do what they did without help.

Who did he know who was not only in a position to help, but would also be _willing_ to…?

“Keith?”

He snaps out of his wandering thoughts to face Pidge, no longer crying but still with red raw eyes.

“What?” 

“I asked what you were going to do about this.”

“About… You mean, the escape pod?”

Hunk responds before Pidge can. “Well, yeah. Aren’t you the one in charge of investigating it? That’s why you were assigned to us in the first place, right?”

Korath sighs, rubbing his left temple with one clawed hand. _I’m still trying to figure out what to do myself._

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

Pidge eyes him suspiciously for a moment before giving him a hesitant smile.

“Thank you.” She says quietly.

Korath shrugs uncomfortably. _He shouldn’t be helping them._

Way too late for that.

He glances up again to see Shiro scrutinising him, this time more with curiosity than open hostility. That… would have been a useful attitude change earlier, so they wouldn’t have had to go to these lengths to find the answers they wanted. Now, it just makes Korath more uncomfortable.

“Keith, you said you’d explain, but I must admit I’m still rather confused.” The Princess’s musical voice greets his ears.

Korath barely suppresses a groan. He’d forgotten about the actual inhabitants of this cell.

_Wonderful, more he had to deal with._

Coran is making Korath more uncomfortable than the Princess’s suspicion, though. While Allura is having no trouble speaking up now, despite having let events unfold without (much) interference earlier, Korath notices that Coran seems unable to take his eyes off Korath, and has remained silent even when confronted with the opportunity to speak. He suspects it's Coran waiting for Korath to trip up, but he elects to ignore it.

He instead turns to Allura, and gestures behind him.

“The crying one is Pidge.”

And then Shiro decides to pitch in. “Her name’s Katie. Why do you keep calling her that?” He frowns disapprovingly at Korath.

Korath cuts him an irritated glance, but thankfully, Pidge explains for him.

“Shiro, I’ll give you the story why another time, but Lance, Hunk, and Keith know me as Pidge. It’s a childhood nickname of mine, and I’m actually starting to prefer it to Katie.” She tells Shiro earnestly.

Shiro raises his eyebrows. There’s quiet before he slowly concedes.

“…Alright. Pidge it is.”

Pidge releases the happiest grin Korath has ever seen on her.

He decides to ruin the moment anyway.

“May I speak with Allura now?”

Pidge gives Korath a withering look, and Korath carefully ignores how warmly amused the expression makes him, instead addressing the Princess again.

“Pidge has been searching for her family and has just been delivered answers by Shiro, who was apparently abducted a human year ago, and has been awarded the status of ‘Champion’ for his multiple wins in an arena where prisoners are forced to fight to the death. Pidge, along with Hunk, over there, and Lance, next to Hunk, are in my custody as prisoners of the Galra Empire. Do you understand now?”

Allure frowns. “No. I knew most of that, I could hardly have _missed_ it. That was not what I was referring to, you don’t have to be so condescending.”

_Was this why Zarkon had refused to let me socialise with my peers when I was younger? Interacting was exhausting._

_Especially with Coran still glaring at me like that._ Korath spares a quick glance towards the watchful (and in his opinion, overprotective) Altean, regretting it instantly when Coran’s eyes narrow in a silent message of ‘I’m watching you.’

More irritated and decreasingly patient, Korath raises his eyebrows at Allura rather than ask her to elaborate verbally, pretending not to have seen Coran.

Allura regards him haughtily.

“I was wondering why these humans are prisoners.”

Korath has to stop himself from slapping his forehead.

_I don’t even know anymore! I have no idea how to defend this!_

“They trespassed on a Galra vessel.”

“Did they realize they were committing a crime against an Empire they likely weren’t aware existed?”

Lance chimes in brightly. “Nope!”

“Besides, they were on their home planet. You’d think the Galra Empire would be guilty of littering, first. And besides, how long have the been in custody?”

“Lost count,” Lance says airily. “Maybe a week, our time.”

“Do you not think that’s punishment enough?” Allura inquires, staring at Korath imperiously.

Korath groans.

“Hey, don’t push him guys.” Hunk comes to Korath’s aid, and he almost collapses in relief. “He’s been amazing, considering. Keith’s just our jailer, it’s not like it’s up to him.” Hunk directs a kind smile Korath’s way.

Korath shifts uncomfortably. _Yes, that definitely did not help the way Hunk seems to think it did._

 _Keith_ may just be their jailer, but _Korath_ was a Prince.

And he’d thought he couldn’t feel more guilty over the entire situation.

The problem is, he feels guilty both in regards to the human’s suffering, and in his deception to his father.

_Damned if I do, damned if I don’t._

When had this become his life?

After a tic, Allura sighs, deflating. “I apologise, Keith. I shouldn’t take out my anger towards the Galra Empire at you.”

_Actually, you have every right to._

Shiro saves Korath from having to respond, looking to the Princess curiously before catching Korath’s eye.

“Well, I’m also still a little confused as to what’s going on. You explained why you brought us here, but not much about ‘here.’ Who are Allura and Coran, and why are they in this cell?”

Terrific. Time to explain his father’s crimes again. This was turning into an interrogation towards _him_ instead of Shiro.

He sighs, and turns around again to face him.

“Give me a moment, I can’t answer everything at once.”

“Then I will,” Allura takes control promptly.

Korath swipes a hand down his face, but doesn’t stop her. This whole situation had spiralled out of his control anyway.

“I am from a race called the Alteans, as is my companion Coran. Keith tells us our race went extinct ten thousand years ago when our home planet, Altea, was destroyed. Admittedly, Coran and I wouldn’t know — we were in cryo sleep, so we may have been gone for months or… or even longer than he says. We are prisoners of war, or so Zarkon tells me,” she says with a sneer.

“It was Zarkon who wiped out my people, and as a result has taken over half the galaxy. We seem to be… top priority prisoners, if what Keith says about security measures is correct.”

Shiro looks at Korath. Korath raises an eyebrow — what she says is true, as far as he knows. He’s not going to dispute her claims.

Shiro seems to take Korath’s response as confirmation of the honesty in what Allura says, and he approaches the Altean.

“I’m sorry.”

Korath’s eyes widen. He had _not_ expected that.

It hadn’t even _occurred_ to him to apologise to the Alteans, and he, as both a Galran and _Zarkon’s son,_ needed to do so far more than a battered human who had suffered just as much.

Allura and Coran seem equally shocked.

“You’re not responsible for any of this,” comments Coran with a furrowed brow, finally breaking his unnerving silence.

Shiro gives him a tired half smile.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry it happened.”

The room holds its breath.

And just like that, whatever illusion of composure and control Allura had forced into the lines of her face and body shattered.

In silence, she collapses in on herself, expression crumpling, but no tears fall. Hesitantly, Shiro rests his arm on her shoulder, and her suddenly ashy face tilts up towards his, twisted into a look Korath can’t even _begin_ to decipher.

Shiro, however, seems to understand.

He says nothing, just settles beside her.

Coran’s face softens, and when Shiro looks up to catch his eye, an understanding seems to pass between them.

Korath, Pidge, Hunk and Lance are left to observe the scene — well, Hunk and Lance do. When Korath turns away in discomfort, he sees Pidge do the same out of the corner of his eye.

To Korath’s unending gratitude, Lance is the one who interrupts the silence.

“Well, uh, we probably shouldn’t be away from our cell _too_ long, to be on the safe side, so now that we've had our chat, we should just… go…”

Allura shoots up, strength returning to her like she had never been weakened, blurting, “Wait!”

Everyone else in the room stares at her — even Coran.

She looks down, embarrassed, and Korath thinks that if she could, she’d be twisting her hands in her lap.

“You see… the five of you are the first new friendly faces I’ve seen in… quite a while. It… it’s doubtful that I may ever see any faces except Coran’s, Zarkon’s and Haggar’s, after this, possibly ever again. If you can… would you mind staying, just for a while?”

They continue to stare. Allura flushes, hair falling in front of her face.

It hurts, Korath thinks, to see the dignified Princess like this. Like Zarkon made her — desperate for company.

Abruptly, Lance walks forward, plopping himself down next to Shiro and in front of Allura.

“Whaddya wanna talk about?”

She blinks at him in surprise.

“…Anything at all,” she finally answers.

Lance smiles wistfully at her.

“Did they have rain, on Altea?”

__________

Korath quickly makes his way to one of the docking bays, ignoring all who acknowledge him. He needs to get this done.

They’d stayed with Allura and Coran for hours more — as long as Korath had thought he could push it, accounting for the minimum time the war council would last, the time they’d need to get back to the human’s cells, and the time required to take care of the footage of the empty cells.

Slowly, everyone had gathered between Allura and Coran, bridging the gap between the two Alteans. They talked about everything and nothing, although Keith had been careful not to share anything about himself.

He knew they’d find out about his lineage sooner or later, but he could avoid it for now.

At one point, Lance had noticed Korath hanging back, and had (to Shiro’s shock) dragged him down to sit with them.

And then he’d made Korath laugh.

Not only was it the first time Korath had laughed in front of any of them, it was the first time he’d laughed in a _long_ time.

And a prisoner had been the cause of it.

That had pretty much erased any hesitance Korath had had about the contents of his report. He had to do this.

Finally, he sees the man he’s looking for.

He strides up to the older Galra.

“Commander Thace, would you follow me please?”

Thace, superior officer in charge of overseeing the docking bays, turns to face him with an amused expression.

“Highness. Lead the way?”

Korath nods curtly, turning on his heel and leading the man away from the crowds of officers buzzing around to a relatively hidden but hopefully not suspicious corner where, though they may be filmed, their conversation shouldn’t be recorded.

He turns to Thace’s relaxed face.

“What’s all this about?”

Korath regards him silently for a tic.

“What do you know about the rogue escape pod?”

Thace’s expression clears.

“Ah. _That’s_ what this is about. I heard you’d been assigned to it. Well, I’ll tell you everything I know, which is nothing. Whoever was behind that, I must admit I’m impressed — they sidestepped my security like it was nothing, stalled the alarm and everything.”

Korath shoots him a piercing glare.

“Don’t play with me Thace. I know you’re loyalty to the Empire is less than solid. You had something to do with it, didn’t you? You _let_ them escape.”

Just like that, Thace locks down, expression smoothing over. His posture and face becomes blank, and he looks at Korath coolly.

“If that’s what you think, why not arrest me right now?”

Aggravatedly, Korath runs a hand through his hair, irritated when it tangles on his claws.

“Listen, uncle,” he snaps, “I’ve known about your disloyal misconduct for _years_. It was obvious when you, as a formerly high-ranking officer, were demoted to this position for no apparent reason. If I haven’t turned you in yet, I’m not going to start trying now.”

Thace’s eyebrows raise. “Why haven’t you?” He inquires cautiously.

 _This cycle has just turned into one long stream of me explaining myself,_ Korath thinks sourly.

He sighs. Why stop being honest?

“You’re my uncle. I wasn’t going to lose you _and_ mom.”

Thace visibly softens. “I’m going to ask again. What’s all this about?”

_Last chance to back out._

“I need your help to cover it up.”

Thace blanches, and Korath thinks in amusement that he couldn’t have achieved that expression even if he’d delivered him a well timed blow.

 _“What?”_ He exclaims, shocked.

Korath stares impassively back at him, secretly smug that he is _finally_ no longer the one on the defensive.

“Will you help or not?” 

Thace’s mouth snaps shut, but he still regards Korath in astonishment. He _does_ regain his composure enough to resort to sarcasm, though.

“I think it’s a little late for a coverup, or did you not realize you were the one in charge of the investigation?”

“I don’t mean stop Zarkon from realising it’s _happened_. _”_ Korath dismisses impatiently. “I mean reduce the incident into the most trivial matter possible — stop anyone getting hurt.”

With narrowed eyes, Thace attempts to take a moment to puzzle Korath out.

Korath doesn’t flinch.

“…Maybe you inherited more from my sister than your looks,” Thace mutters.

He sighs and seems to give in.

“What do you have in mind?”

__________

Desperately trying to hide his nervousness, Korath approaches his quarters.

This was the most solid betrayal against the Emperor yet.

Yes, he’d hid his motives in keeping the humans around, and later in getting Shiro away from Haggar, but that was inconsequential.

He’d broken into the Altean’s cell, and while that was trespassing (and stealing, if we’re including acquiring Haggar’s access chip), although he could be punished for that, Zarkon had always thought of him as the more wayward of his sons, and would view it as a youthful indiscretion fuelled by curiosity.

He’d allowed Pidge to erase a tape that showed prisoners technically assaulting a Prince, but that would get _them_ in trouble rather than _him_.

He’d brought all the humans together to talk in front of the Alteans, but he could play that off as gaining information by whatever means necessary — as long as Zarkon could execute the humans, he’d mostly be annoyed that they briefly knew some of the Empire’s secrets.

This, though.

If Zarkon found out about _this,_ he was _screwed_.

They all were, now including Thace.

Tampering with evidence. Lying on an official document. Lying about the results of his mission to the Emperor. Conspiracy to deceive and avoid the Emperor’s wishes. Letting prisoners of the Galra Empire get away.

_I have no other choice._

He shakes himself out of his thoughts. Thace will organise everything within a couple cycles, he can hand in his report, and this will _all_ be behind him.

Except then he’ll need to figure out what to do with the humans long term.

And the Alteans.

Korath groans dramatically, sagging to look down at the floor sullenly just as he turns the corner to his rooms.

And because he does so, he misses the lean, white-haired figure casually resting against his door, guards nowhere in sight.

He does hear what the figure says, though.

“Something wrong, brother dear?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S RIGHT, GUESS WHO'S NO LONGER ONLY MENTIONED? I'll get around to changing the tags later. AND DID YOU SEE THAT COMING (ABOUT THE MEETING PLACE)? I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE! In case you didn't catch it (since I was a little vague), Korath/Keith skipped out on the war meeting so he'd be able to use Coran and Aullra's cell without worrying about Zarkon and Haggar busting in on them by accident, who WOULD be at the meeting.
> 
> Yay, the gang's finally all together! Briefly, at least. And two new(ish) characters! I know this one is very Keith-centric, and it may seem a bit weird to stay in his viewpoint for most of it without break, but he IS a key player, especially this chapter. AND EVERYONE FIRKIN ATTACKED HIM LMAO. Honestly, that just kinda happened. Shiro's dadness also makes a small cameo.
> 
> Also, THE PARALLELS WITH ZUKO/KORATH CONTINUE. Goddammit. I gave him a well-meaning uncle in Thace (I SWEAR TO GOD HE'S NOT MUCH LIKE IROH AT ALL), which I had been planning to do from the beginning, but now all I can see is that I'm damning myself more and more with making Keith Zuko. I've brought in the evil(ish) sibling! And it'll probably just get worse. Godammit. Just. Damn.
> 
> Hope the "Matt and Sam escaped thing" doesn't seem like a copout! Another thing I'd been planning from the beginning -- they were never actually going to appear in the story, so sorry if I disappointed you...
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave a comment, whether it's a single word or a dissertation! I promise, I love them all!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first, SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! Tech troubles, then things to do in the real world, and THEN a lil bit of writer's block. SO, yeah. Accounting for said writer's block, this chapter seems a little bit weird to me, so if you have any advice, I'll gladly take it! Oh yeah, and a few of you pointed out that Coran's accent is actually Kiwi, so I fixed that... kind of.

  
Korath’s head snaps up, and he groans again, even more dramatically, when he processes who waits for him. He does _not_ need this right now.

“What do you want, Lotor?”

His older brother pouts exaggeratedly.

“What, you don’t want to see me?” He asks in a hurt tone, expressive Altean eyes wide and shiny.

“No.” Korath replies flatly, striding past him and into his rooms when the doors slide open.

His ears swivel in annoyance when he picks up the sound of Lotor’s footsteps follow him inside.

“How very heartless of you Korath! I came all this way to attend one of dad’s war councils in person, and you choose _this_ one to be the one to miss?”

Unimpressed, Korath turns to him. “That’s _why_ I missed it. I’m sad to see it finished so soon.”

“Oh, you wound me so, brother. I leave a little early, just for you, and now you don’t even want to cherish our familial bond?”

Korath’s eyes narrow. He’s tired, stressed, and _not_ in the mood for this.

“Careful, Lotor,” he says neutrally, deciding to hit where it hurts. “If you keep adding emotional weight where there is none, the Emperor may just decide there’s too much Altean in you after all.”

It’s Lotor’s turn for his eyes to narrow. His body language becomes icy, and his eyes become glacial.

“If you’re going to be that way, Korath, I may as well tell you why I’m really here.”

“Oh, not here to ‘cherish our bond’ at all?” Korath deadpans. “Now I’m the one hurt.”

Lotor tilts his head, then continues in a silky tone as if Korath had never spoken. “Our beloved _Haggar_ informs me that you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. While she won’t say much more than that, I’d _hate_ to see you start… overestimating yourself.” Lotor’s expression doesn’t change, nor does his tone, throughout his speech.

Wow. Korath _really_ pissed him off.

And _quiznak_. Haggar was onto him. After stealing her access chip, he really _had_ been pushing his luck by stealing Shiro out from under her nose.

He doesn’t regret it.

But he may now have a problem on his hands.

Or yet another problem, at least.

His hand drifts down to his side automatically, checking that the access chip is secure.

Clawed fingertips meets empty space.

_What?_

Lotor suddenly brightens again, as if he was never anything but delighted to see his brother after so long. His change in demeanor gives Korath a chance to cover his moment of panic, smoothing his facial expression out even as Lotor becomes positively buoyant with pleasure.

_I must have dropped it. Stupid!  
_

But he can't focus on that now. Getting distracted will just give him away. Besides, it should be fine; it's not much of a problem, provided he can _find_ it.

Lotor's happiness is a little alarming, though.

 _Probably found a way to assert his superiority,_ Korath thinks dryly. Lotor liked displaying how much better he was than Korath at all times. The only ways he _wasn’t_ superior were in close combat, piloting, and the fact that Korath was a full Galra.

The first two Lotor would dismiss with a sneer, commenting that such skills were only required for _lackeys,_ the ones who got their hands dirty. The last…

…was a sore point. But Lotor seems to have forgotten (yeah right, he’s just trying to make _Korath_ forget) the slight for now, and sure enough, he’s found a topic that will allow him to rub his superiority in Korath’s face.

”Did dad tell you, brother, about my promotion?”

Korath doesn’t react, because he honestly doesn’t care. So Lotor had gotten yet _another_ position higher than the last in which he will do the exact same thing, call the shots from a cushy chair where he faced no risk himself. So what?

“No. And I don’t care.”

“Sure you do!” Lotor exclaims brightly, wrapping an arm around Korath’s shoulders, claws precariously close to his throat.

“About as much as I did about the last ones,” Korath mutters long sufferingly.

“Ah, but brother dear, this one’s _different.”_

Korath’s expression doesn’t change from his look of boredom. “Is it really?” He asks in a monotone.

“Yup!” Lotor says happily.

Korath shouldn’t take the bait.

“And why is that?”

Lotor smirks.

“Because,” he whispers, leaning into Korath’s ear, “this time dear old dad is going to make me a pilot.”

It takes all Korath has not to visually express his shock, but he can’t stop some escaping into his voice.

“Why? That sounds like a job you’d _hate._ And also more like a _de_ motion, from what you keep telling me.”

Lotor’s smirk doesn’t waver.

“Ah, but I won’t be just _any_ pilot. I’ll be the pilot of something very… special. Unfortunately, I can’t say much more than that.” He pouts with false remorse. “But I’ll be seeing my new ship very soon. Next cycle, in fact!”

_Ah. That’s the real reason he came to Zarkon’s ship, for this special craft._

“I’d show it to you, as you _know_ you’re my favourite brother, but alas, I cannot. I guess Zarkon must not think you’re _ready_ for it.”

That was probably meant to offend him, but Korath found himself agreeing, going by how his first ever mission was turning out. He probably _wasn’t_ ready for it. Maybe never would be.

Lotor doesn’t take his lack of reaction well.

He looks at Korath sharply, then readjusts his smile.

“It’s somewhere on this ship, you know, my craft. Right under your nose. You could probably spend months searching your own turf for it and never find it.”

Uh huh. This was always Lotor’s downfall — the desperate need to impress. Honestly, Zarkon kept all his “top secret” stuff in the same wing, and as soon as he recovered Haggar’s access chip (and he better), he could probably get to it if he wanted, but he just doesn’t care.

And he was reasonably sure he’d found Zarkon’s biggest “secret” anyway. Wouldn’t Lotor be furious if he found out Korath had known about the living Alteans before he did?

“Hmm.” He hums noncommittally. The more he infuriates Lotor, the more he’ll spill. He’s never really played his brother like this before — never cared to. He made sure he knew enough about the Empire to get by, and that was it. He’d never been interested in the nitty-gritties of its upkeep.

Until now.

Until the humans.

Until the _Alteans_.

May as well get as much information as he can, _while_ he can.

Ever the wonderful older brother, Lotor obliges.

“I don’t think you appreciate all that could be done with this promotion of mine, Korath.”

“How can I?” He says uninterestedly. “As you said, I have no idea what’s going on.”

There's a pause, and Korath worries for a moment that Lotor has figured him out. But then—

“Well, I suppose I can indulge a _few_ details.” Lotor says with deadly sweetness, his wide smile dripping with false charm (and he was definitely exposing his teeth on purpose. Like he'd told Lance, exposing teeth was far from friendly for Galra. This was supposed to be threatening. How shocking). “You remember those pesky Balmera?”

Korath squints. “Barely. Creature-planet things we harvest quintessence from.”

“Well, with this ship, we can destroy them.”

_Huh?_

His mind reels, and he cant stop himself from recoiling. He... he can't have heard that right. That makes no _sense!_

 _“Destroy_ them? Why would we want to _destroy_ them?! We _need_ them!” 

Lotor smiles serenely.

“Correction. We need the ones under our control. Why risk any others attempting to harvest quintessence for themselves?”

He blinks at his brother in astonishment as he continues.

"Plus, it'll send a sign of... shall we say, don't resist?"

Korath can’t contain his shock this time.

“They’re _living creatures,_ Lotor!”

“And notoriously difficult to kill,” Lotor observes mildly. “Which is why my new toy can come in handy. It’ll be able to destroy two per cycle, should we need it. Powerful, no?”

Lotor smirks at Korath, probably thinking his younger brother’s open mouth is indication of being impressed.

It’s not.

 _That’s… that’s… that’s disgusting! That’s_ horrifying _._

His father wouldn’t really…

_Yes he would._

Pleased to have finally garnered the reaction he wanted, Lotor stretches luxuriously.

“Got to go, brother. Can’t spend all my time catching up. I probably won’t drop by again — I’m a busy man — but I’ll be hanging around over the next few cycles.”

He grins, fangs on display once more, leaning forward in a deceptively friendly manner.

“I’d _love_ to see what you’ve been getting up to, so I’ll be keeping an eye out.”

With that, he cheerily sweeps through the doors, which close behind him with a hushed whump.

Korath sits down heavily.

_Quiznak._

Haggar was onto him, and she’d sicced _Lotor_ onto him, who would now be watching his every move…

And now his family had their hands on a super-weapon of some kind.

That they were not planning to wield wisely.

_Wonderful._

He presses his head against his knees.

He can stall meeting with Thace for a couple cycles, keep Lotor’s attention away from him. He won’t be able to visit the humans either — he doesn’t want to alert Lotor of their presence if his brother doesn’t already know, and he doesn’t want his brother witnessing their less than appropriate interactions.

He hopes to be lucky in that Zarkon likely won’t grant Lotor access to the cameras or the cell — he knows how aggravated their father gets with Lotor’s antics, especially when they’re attempts to sabotage his younger brother out of some kind of petty ‘playfulness’ mixed with self-imposed rivalry. If he’s unlucky, however, and Lotor finds out and asks, Zarkon himself might take a look, finally, and while all evidence of anything particularly… untoward… have been removed, the lack of torture and informal interactions in general won’t do him — or the humans — any favors. If he’s especially unlucky…

Zarkon may check the feed to the Champion’s current cell, maybe even his previous one. The lack of torture in that case would be _especially_ suspicious, considering his little speech to his father about missing the war meeting, and in conjunction with that, his odd behavior in his first meeting with Shiro…

Granted, he hadn’t been thinking all that clearly at the time, and had hoped that by avoiding anything incriminating, his behavior would be dismissed — he was a Prince, for Empire’s sake, all he'd done was act a little odd, and the average guard would let him get away with just about anything.

Zarkon, not so much.

So. Avoid making Haggar and Lotor more suspicious, ergo avoid the humans and keep them out of this matter entirely.

They have food to last him not visiting them briefly — each ration portion was enough to last a few days in order to diminish the number of necessary visits to prison cells.

What to do in the mean time?

Well.

He _does_ need to pick up his training again, for several reasons.

Where he would have once been thrilled at the opportunity to spend two full cycles piloting and fighting, he now feels nothing but hollow.

He ignores the feeling.

He’s been doing that a lot, lately.

And...

It gives him some time to try and track down his apparently rogue access chip.

__________

“Pidge, can you stop pacing?”

Pidge directs the source of the comment a cutting glare, only to realize she’s looking at Hunk and not Lance, as she’d expected. Noticing how he recoils, and realizing he probably made the comment out of good intentions rather than irritation, her glare instantly softens, and her features become a little sheepish.

_I guess I really am distracted._

With this in mind, she slows to a stop in front of her two teammates.

Lance raises an eyebrow.

“Dude, we thought you’d be, y’know, _calmer_ after finding out that your family’s okay.”

And oh, she is. The relief she feels is almost crippling. Intermittently, she’ll get bouts of giddiness because _they’realivethey’realivethey’realivethey’reokaythey’reokaythey’reokay._ In all honesty, Pidge had been too scared to let herself think, for even a minute, that she’d get an outcome even _close_ to this good. But she did, and she’s incredibly grateful.

But now that her self-assigned investigation (relentless search, more like) is over, she’s left to focus on her own situation.

Which is not looking good.

She decides to turn her full frustration on Lance, now that the opportunity has been presented.

“Keith hasn’t visited us since the… thing, yesterday.”

And that's worrying her more than she's letting on. She's starting to wonder if...

Lance glares right back at her.

“Uh, _yeah,_ Pidge. I think we noticed.”

Her expression flattens.

Hunk, intervening, flips his hands out between the two.

“Guys, chill. Lance, leave Pidge alone. Pidge…”

He turns to her with a soft expression.

“You need to calm down. You’re freaking out over nothing. Just take a couple days to relax, okay? You deserve it, after everything.” He smiles warmly at her.

She stares, before closing her eyes and dragging in a deep, slow breath. They’re probably right, after all. She’s just… paranoid. A constant problem solver. And she’s currently facing a _lot_ of problems.

Letting acceptance fill her, she opens her eyes and nods. Hunk beams, while Lance just throws himself backwards onto his bed with a grumbled _‘thank God.’_

She can wait a few days. She owes Keith (and herself) that much. Still…

She palms the small, alien rectangle in her pocket.

 _“You’re captives of the Galra Empire. You trespassed on one of our ships. You_ can’t _leave.”_

She should probably start planning.

__________

Korath growls in frustration, deactivating the training droid. It was no use attempting to go any further today. He was too irritated, too distracted, too _worried_.

And he didn't want to destroy _another_ training droid. The last time that had happened, Zarkon had not been pleased, and seeing as he felt he was on shaky ground with his father…

He’ll have to retire to his rooms tonight. He doesn't have many other options — no training, no mission, no talking to Thace, no visiting the humans…

And no luck finding his (or Haggar's, rather) chip.

His searching has been limited, with his brother hanging around; he can’t look too close to either the Alteans’ cell, or the humans’.

It’s been two cycles — he would hope that Lotor would be gone by now. Unfortunately, it seems he hasn’t.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if his brother stays much longer — he can’t put off visiting the humans — or Thace — forever. And he _needs to find that chip._

Korath sighs, quickly finishing up and exiting the training room, briskly making his way back to his quarters. If he can avoid everyone, that would be _fantastic_ —

No such luck. He sees his brother, once again, leaning against his door. His brother beams even as Korath sweeps past him in clear dismissal. Before he can finish opening the door, however, Lotor drapes himself across the entryway.

“Why, brother, we keep meeting like this-”

_Namely because you’re the only one between the two of us who wants to keep meeting._

“-it must be fate!”

“What happened to ‘I likely won’t visit again’? Did the _extra special ship_ not work out?”

Lotor’s expression closes off again.

_Bingo._

But, as always, Lotor rallies, living by ‘the best defense is a good offense.’

“Actually,” Lotor purrs, which is incredibly unnerving when paired with his still dead features, “it’s just taking longer than expected, so I had a little… free time, and decided to check up on your activities, like I said I would…”

Korath has to fight to stop himself going completely rigid.

_Oh, quiznak._

“...And I noticed you paid a visit to your beloved uncle.” Lotor smiles winningly, but his eyes are still cold.

As for Korath, his heart starts to beat again, muscles slowly loosening as inconspicuously as possible.

He’s not sniffing around the right area, thank Zarkon.

But what Lotor _has_ found is enough to make him nervous.

He doesn’t show it.

“And?”

“And,” Lotor simpers, “I was wondering if this means you’re becoming less than loyal, brother — perhaps thinking of defying our father’s orders.”

_Quiznak quiznak quiznak._

He straightens, eyeing his brother coldly. “Who I visit is no concern of yours.”

Lotor grins, lips peeling back slowly to individually reveal each individual, very sharp, tooth, and Korath realizes too late that he’s tipped his hand and shown Lotor _exactly_ what he needed to see with his reaction.

With a quiet hum, Lotor tilts his head, spinning on his heel without so much as a goodbye

Korath stares after his brother, unsure what else he can do but allow dread to fill him.

This was not going to end well.

Well...

Since he's already possibly screwed… may as well go and see how Thace was doing. It had been two cycles — surely his preparations were finished?

If he can visit his father before Lotor does and wrap up his mission, explaining his visit to Thace, he might still be able to save this. With his mission done, Zarkon will probably dismiss whatever Lotor says as aforementioned petty sibling rivalry; if the mission's finished, he won't have any reason to bother looking into anything.

He hopes.

But… Lotor probably wouldn’t approach their father until next cycle. It's late, and Zarkon does _not_ appreciate being approached with anything less than dire at this hour. And a meeting with Thace this late won’t go unnoticed, and certainly won’t do him any favors.

Next cycle, then. He’ll see where he stands next cycle.

__________

“It’s been two days now. Two. Days. Guys…”

Lance rolls his eyes so hard Pidge actually thinks he might break something. “Oh, for… Pidge, I thought you’d let this go.”

She had — briefly. But with each passing moment and not so much as a scuff mark from their captor, she’s getting nervous.

In fact, she thinks they may have to resort to her Plan. Which isn't much of a plan at all, but it would be a big step. And she at least needs to clue her teammates in on what she’s thinking.

“My point is… I think… he might have…” She bites her lip, fingers twisting together. She doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to _believe_ it, but it makes sense.

“I think… I think he might’ve… abandoned us.”

Hunk startles, looking alarmed, but Lance just rolls his eyes, almost impossibly even harder than before.

“Oh, come on Pidge. He hasn’t visited us for a couple days, so what? That’s not very long at all for the guy, you’re freaking out over nothing.”

And, yeah, that could be fair. The first day she’d been anxious, but she’d ignored it, knowing she was just on edge. But the second… by the second, her Plan had started to take shape, and she’s begun to think she has reason to put it into action.

Pidge tips her head back, breathing in.

“Lance. We just kind of did something that was a _very big deal_ two days ago. Don’t you think he’d have news? At least in regards to exactly how he’s going to ‘take care of’ the whole escape pod thing?”

Lance shifts, becoming a little more uncomfortable. “Yeah, well… things like that take time, Pidge.”

“He would at _least_ give us updates, or something! Look, his mission’s technically finished. He got the information he wanted, and now he doesn’t need to have anything more to do with us. He said we would be in his care ‘until his mission finished.’ His mission’s finished, guys.”

Her voice softens a little, shoulders slumping forward. She doesn’t like the idea any more than them.

“And… he did say we were prisoners for life.”

The room fills with suffocating silence, pressing in on them, stifling and oppressive. Hunk looks crestfallen and impossibly hurt. Lance, for his part, looks wary, doubtful — but not entirely convinced.

That’s okay. She doesn’t want them all to be.

Let her be the skeptic — Lance can be the believer.

With that thought, she straightens her shoulders, hardening herself.

“It doesn’t matter about Keith right now. It looks like we’re in a tough spot, and now that we’ve got our answers, we have a new priority.”

She leans forward, Lance and Hunk automatically copying her.

“Escape.”

Lance frowns. “Yeah, that’s nice, Pidge, but we’ve had that priority from the beginning and we haven’t been able to do anything. And now we need to take _Shiro_ with us. Got any new ideas?”

Pidge hunches her shoulders apprehensively.

“Well… I may have found a way out of our cell.”

Hunk’s mouth drops open.

 _“What?_ How? Why the hell are we still _here?”_

Attempting to answer Hunk’s question before Lance can blow up, as his increasingly indignant expression seems to suggest he will, she raises her voice.

“Just because we have a way out of the cell doesn’t mean we have a way off the ship or back to Earth. And as for how we can get out… I… may have snatched Keith’s swipe-card-key-thingy.”

She reaches into her pocket, slowly extracting a black, cold, metallic rectangle, maybe half the size of standard credit, ID, and library cards on Earth. It’s got two jagged, glowing purple lines running through it, similar to the cuffs they’d first been put in.

Her companions lean forward, wide-eyed as they process the tiny gateway to freedom lying innocuously in her palm.

Lance is the first to recover.

If she thought he’d looked indignant before, now he looks apoplectic, hands exploding outwards in order to better illustrate his disbelief.

“WHAT?! Are you trying to kill us?! No wonder he hasn’t been coming, he hasn’t been able to get into the _cell!”_

Pidge grits her teeth, reminding herself that his incredibly aggravating question is completely valid, seeing as she hasn’t _explained_ yet.

“No, it’s not the chip I’ve seen him using for our cell, or Shiro’s. This is the chip I saw him use to get into Allura and Coran’s cell.”

She’d thought taking the key card to their cell might be too suspicious, and this one had just been right there. And… well… her hands had been untied.

Hopefully he’ll think he just… misplaced it.

She’d not gonna bet on it though, so they have to move fast — another reason they shouldn’t wait around.

Now Lance just projects waves of annoyance, eyes dead and unimpressed.

“Well, how does _that_ help us?”

Yeah, actually, she's not so sure herself, but she _does_ have a (shaky) working theory.

“I think… it could be a skeleton key. It looks different from the one he uses for our cell, and the one he uses for Shiro’s, and... he said he wasn't supposed to be able to access the Alteans' cell, so I thought…”

“…That he wouldn’t notice it missing?! And how can you tell the difference between cards?” Hunk, although calmer than Lance, still looks freaked out.

It’s Pidge’s turn to become unimpressed.

“Uh, this one has _glowy lines_ running through it.”

“…Fair enough.”

Lance tilts his head, momentarily distracted.

"Wow, these aliens really have an aesthetic going, don’t they? Wouldn’t it be weird if all humans made everything shades of tan?"

She snorts slightly at that, amusement coming more easily to her now that the biggest weight on her shoulders has been lifted.

Not that that means she's off scot free.

Capturing Hunk and Lance’s attention again, she presses onwards.

“But anyway, listen to me. I think I have a plan. Or… a way of developing a plan.”

Hunk and Lance raise their eyebrows.

“Well… I think maybe one of us — all of us at once, without Keith, is too much of a risk — could maybe sneak out and talk to the Alteans.”

Lance and Hunk reel back, and Pidge hurries on to explain.

“Look, it’s not hard. We can just recycle what we already did with Keith. The corridors he lead us down seemed relatively empty, and the Alteans’ cell has no cameras — that makes them easier to speak with than Shiro, at least for now. One of us can just… talk to them, see what they know that could help us get out. Surely they know more than us. I come back here, wipe the footage. Bam, done. It would get us started, at least.”

They still watch her with wide eyes, and she sinks down a little. “It’s better than nothing,” she mutters.

“Pidge… that’s… that’s risky. And I mean really, really risky. I mean, doing it with inside help — with a guard on our side — is one thing. Alone…” Hunk looks beyond concerned now — he looks scared.

“…I know. But it’s all I’ve got.”

She alternates between gazing imploringly at Lance, and then Hunk.

Finally, Lance speaks.

“How about this. We wait one more day, and if Keith doesn’t show up… we do it. Last resort.”

Pidge hesitates, then nods.

“Okay.”

__________

“Haggar, I think you may be right about our dearest little Korath. I’ve found something quite interesting, although it’s not yet enough to take to father…”

__________

“It’s… It’s three days now guys.”

 _“Barely._ We could give it a little longer, wait a few more-”

“We need to move, or we might not be able to do anything at all.”

“…Okay.”

__________

Allura, for lack of anything better to do, stares at the ceiling. She and Coran talk, sometimes, just for the sake of hearing _something,_ but there’s only so much time they can spend talking. Honestly, the worst part of her… _experiences_ so far hasn’t been the purposely inflicted pain.

It’s been this. Waiting, alone, in mind-numbing boredom and fear as she anticipates the next round of fun at the Galran’s hands.

Keith’s first visit, brief though it may have been, was such a wonderful change of pace. Regardless of who he was, what his motives were, encountering someone new who wasn’t openly hostile…

It had been a breath of fresh air.

And it seems he is what he said, after all. The Galran had seemed to think that he and his… companions (though prisoners was also technically correct, it didn’t seem quite right) were an inconvenience, she’d been delighted to see some new faces. An unwanted observer to an incredibly private, emotional moment she may have been, but…

It was so, so nice.

And talking with them afterwards had been better. She’d felt ashamed, embarrassed, to ask, as in doing so she’d sacrificed her dignity and was requesting something incredibly unfair of them.

She didn’t regret it.

Hunk had been wonderfully kind, strong and steady, a calming presence after everything. Lance, funny, entertaining, and a little whimsical (and oh, how that brightness, that innocence had been beautiful to see). Pidge, mischievous, quick with her words and quicker with her mind.

Shiro… Shiro was like them. Like her and Coran. ‘Human’ he may have been, but… he had that… that air about him.

He’d known suffering, just as they had. Probably at the hands of the Galra, too.

And still, he was gentle, and supporting, and generous. Wary around Keith, but so accommodating of the others.

Keith… she didn’t know what to make of him. She had decided she liked him, despite his strangeness. He was rebellious, clearly. Maybe impulsive, if he’d ended up in this situation.

And he, too, seemed soft in the way Lance, Pidge, and Hunk were. In a way she, Coran and Shiro weren’t.

It was all enough to overwhelm her.

These new names, these new faces… What Keith had told her on his first visit. They were the only things she had to keep her from the insanity of the pain, the monotony, the boredom.

And yet… she needs to stop dwelling on it. It’s unlikely she’ll ever see them again.

At that moment the door slides open.

Pidge pops her head in, blinking before locking eyes with Allura sheepishly.

“Hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, bit of a 'setting up' chapter, but I hope you enjoyed anyway! Once again, sorry for the wait! We're starting to near the end now, with maybe 2-4 chapters to go -- it depends how it ends up being spaced out. 
> 
> Yeah, I was out of it for a while, so if this piece seems a little odd in places, that'll be why. I've been busy, and so have... kind of forgotten what I've already written. Sooo... inconsistencies maaay make an appearance. I may at one point in the future go through this once it's done and clean it up, but until then... let me know how I can fix it up if you spot anything! Also; Lotor came out weird, although I had immense fun writing him, so... tell me what you think, I guess!
> 
> Aside from that, THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone reading and responding to this! It really helps me continue! And an extra apology to all the commenters I took super long to respond to.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. Oh my god guys I am so sorry this took so long. For those of you who actually care about/want an explanation, my excuses are as follows: 
> 
> Basically, EVERYTHING started happening around October/November, and by the time things started to calm down mid December the fic started giving me trouble -- i.e., I couldn't figure out how to space out the last chapters. I FINALLY got close to finishing the next chapter at the beginning of January, and then just... didn't finish??? I could literally FEEL my draft judging me from it's file, and I would just kind of iGNORE IT HARDER???
> 
> So, yeah. I did have an initial, legitimate gap, but then avoidance happened!
> 
> Honestly, though, your comments were so amazingly wonderful to receive, and for some reason I thought "I should only reply to them when I have the next chapter ready."
> 
> ???WTF brain???? I now realize that reasoning made like NO sense, but I swear I love you all and I'm sorry
> 
> Anyway, I finally set myself a deadline for posting BEFORE the season two release date... and promptly missed it when I got the dates mixed up... but, hey, I was close???
> 
> On that note, I actually haven't seen all of season 2 yet, and I'm sure some people reading this won't have either, so try and keep the comments spoiler-free, at least for now!
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint after such a long wait! We're getting closer to the end, enjoy!

Korath wastes no time. At the earliest he can get away without it being suspicious, he slips out of his rooms.

And almost runs headfirst into Lotor.

 _Oh_ _for_ _the_ _love_ _of—_

“I shouldn’t be surprised at your lies, Lotor, really, I shouldn’t, but you _did_ already harass me a mere few hours earlier—”

Lotor’s face could have been carved out of stone.

“Don’t play with me, Korath,” he says simply, voice empty and cold. “I may have been in the mood for fun last cycle, but I no longer have any time to waste on you.”

“Touching,” Korath says dryly, at odds with his rigid form. “I really thought you cared.”

“As I will be departing later this cycle, I thought it best to have one last catch up.” Lotor shows no reaction to Korath’s words.

Korath continues regardless.

“Going so soon? I thought your ship meant you had to stay a while.”

Impossibly, the half-Altean becomes even more frigid.

 _Ah_. _So_ _that’s_ _not_ _happening_ _anymore_. _No_ _wonder_ _he’s_ _in_ _such_ _a_ _bad_ _mood_.

Icy demeanor not so much as cracking, Lotor slowly and deliberately leans forward. “I know what you’re up to,” he murmurs quietly, still terrifyingly blank. “I may be leaving, but I just want to let you know, dear brother…”

His voice is now directly by Korath’s ear.

“Prisoner visits, hm, Korath? I know. And so does Haggar.”

Expression and demeanor unchanging, he straightens, every muscle perfectly controlled.

Korath can’t breathe, but his own face remains equally blank, if not quite as cold. If Lotor thinks he’s stupid enough to let an instinctual reaction give him away (again, at least), well, he has another thing coming.

Lotor surveys him for a moment with dead eyes. “Consider it proof of just how much I care that I give this warning — you have a chance. You have not yet done anything you cannot come back from.”

Deliberately turning his back on Korath, Lotor silently and smoothly turns, making his way down the corridor.

_Quiznak._

Korath stands very, very still, and tries to will his racing heart to do the same.

There was some good news buried in that encounter.

It seems Lotor won’t be destroying whole planets — living breathing ones at that — any time soon.

Hopefully no-one else would, either.

And it also seems that Zarkon has yet to be informed of Korath’s… activities. Lotor deliberately mentioned Haggar, which means she’s the highest threat he’s currently got.

With that thought in mind, Korath squares his shoulders and starts marching purposely towards his destination.

The deadline to resolve his mission is next cycle, and with Zarkon in the dark, not much has happened to change his reasoning of hours earlier. He can still save this. He can still save the humans — all of them.

Provided Thace has come through, that is.

__________

  
Hunk paces nervously.

Lance tips his head back with a loud, gusty sigh, but tries to otherwise valiantly stay still as he’s been instructed in Hunk’s wake.

“Is pacing a disease? Pidge gets distracted by fiddling with alien tech, and you start fidgeting for her?”

Hunk doesn’t look anything close to offended.

If anything, he just looks more worried.

“This… this is such a bad idea, guys.”  Lance looks at him, incredulous, because _seriously?_

“You go along with Pidge sneaking _out_ of this cell, _into_ another one which is also _top_ _secret,_ discussing _escape_ _plans_ with an _alien_ — no, _two_ aliens! — and _this_ is where you draw the line?”

Waving a hand somewhat hysterically, Lance’s friend starts biting his nails.

“Well, we had a good chance of getting away with all of that, and it seems like we have, but _this_ is like actively trying to get ourselves killed!” Hunk wails.

“Both of you shut it,” Pidge says calmly from where she’s hunched over what Lance is physically unable to describe beyond _metal_.

“Okay, but, do you really think you can replicate one of their key cards? Because I feel like if you make a cheap knockoff that we then try to use, we’re just gonna get caught and killed.”

Pidge doesn’t even glance up.

“First — yes, I can. Second, if we get caught and killed, it won’t be the chip that sold us out, and third, Keith’s going to get suspicious eventually. We need him to get this back before he can properly trace it back to us, but we also need it to get out. Ergo, replica. Well — a replica in function, at least,” she mutters, drawing back and seeming to realize how very not key card like the… metal… looks.

“Does he _really_ need it back, though?” Hunk nervously enquires, hopeful and yet somehow resigned at the same time.

This time, Pidge does look up.

If only for a second to give Hunk a deadpan glare.

“Yes, Hunk, I have a feeling the skeleton key that allows him access into forbidden cells is something he’ll need back.”

Hunk sighs.

“Worth a shot,” he mutters.

Having watched this exchange with only mild interest, Lance decides to jump in now that it’s apparently over to ask about what _he_ thinks is possibly a more important topic.

“Sooo…”

He’s trying for suave and casual, but he suspects he's missing by a mile.

“What did good ol’ Allura and Coran tell you? Anything useful? Anything… escape-ish?”

“Why do you think I’m making a key card, Lance?”

Lance squints.

“You just told us why.”

Pidge’s patience seems to be wearing incredibly thin, because when she devotes her full attention to Lance, the ire in her eyes is enough to make him draw back sharply.

“Look, sorry I didn’t fill you guys in right away, but I really needed to start working on this. It’s almost done, so just give me a few more minutes, okay?”

Her tone is understanding, but her face promises murder, so Lance just nods quickly.

The room descends into silence once more, and Lance tries very, very hard not to fidget, as he’s currently blocking the camera’s view of what Pidge is working on. He knows it’s still kind of suspicious, but Pidge didn’t want to keep wiping out the camera footage when she didn’t have to, especially as there was now at least three hours of footage missing from today alone due to Pidge’s little adventure, so they’re just gonna have to continue on their current path of “hoping for the best.”

 _Hunk,_ Lance thinks grumpily, _why_ _can’t_ _you_ _just_ _stay_ still?

As Hunk had been the one with the largest frame, it had been him who’d been originally instructed to do the job of ‘visual obstruction,’ but when he’d been unable to contain his nervousness, Pidge had eventually snapped and asked Lance to take over.

The silence continues, broken only by Hunk’s footfalls the sounds of clinking metal, and Lance gets more irate the longer it continues.

He really did feel he was getting the short end of the stick here. Not only did he have an annoying, boring, and uncomfortable job, but Pidge had scavenged metal from _his_ bed. Sure, she’d already had most of what she needed… from who knows where (probably gained during her mysterious three-hour journey), so not _much_ was missing, but _still_.

 _Maybe I can sabotage_ her _bed, see how_ she _likes it,_ he thinks sourly.

He knows he’s being petty, but allowing an emotional outlet in this is a lot better than stewing on what actually requires attention. If Pidge isn’t gonna fill them in yet, he doesn’t want to dwell on it and freak himself out before he even knows what’s going on.

Finally, after what is most certainly a _lot_ longer than ‘a few minutes’ (though, granted, his internal clock is thoroughly screwed), Pidge sits back with a gusty sigh and proudly declares, “finished.”

Hunk immediately stops pacing, bouncing on his toes with wide-eyed anticipation instead.

“Does it work?”

Pidge tilts her head in a resigned gesture.

“Only one way to find out.”

She stands, metal abomination in one hand and actual key card in the other, gesturing for Lance to do the same. He and Hunk both obligingly crowd around her, hiding her from view as much as possible. Sure, it won’t do much if the door actually opens, but that’s what Pidge’s magic-alien-camera-wiping powers are for.

They collectively hold their breath as Pidge shuffles over to the door and carefully presses the metal abomination to the access panel.

Nothing happens.

Pidge frowns and tries again, shifting the metal into a different position.

Still nothing.

Now tight lipped and wide-eyed, Pidge starts fumbling with it, hands shaking.

Lance feels his own eyes widen in compassion and alarm. Grabbing her hands with his own, he forces them still.

“Hey! Hey, Pidge, it’s okay, yeah? We’ll just… try something else.”

She gazes up at him with a fear he’s never seen on her before, the fear of the completely helpless, and he abruptly remembers that she’s much younger than him.

“Here.”

Hunk’s large hand appears in Lance’s vision, and he draws back, blinking in confusion before turning to see Hunk’s face, no longer tight with worry.

Instead, his jaw is clenched in purpose and his eyes glint with determination.

“Let me have a go. You know I’m good with machines.”

Pidge stares uncomprehendingly for a moment before her back straightens with purpose and she nods sharply, pulling her hands away from Lance’s and depositing both her contraption and the key card onto Hunk’s palm with military precision.

His expression softens slightly and he grins at her.

“I’m sure I can make it work, okay? Do you think you could go over the plan with us now while I try?”

She ducks her head sheepishly.

“Sure.”

Taking a deep breath, she turns to Lance as Hunk settles down at their feet.

“Allura’s got a way of getting us out of the ship. The only catch is we’ll be taking her and Coran with us.”

__________

Korath strides down the halls, aloof and untouchable, at odds with the fear and anticipation he can feel rolling in his gut.

He just has to get this done. Get this done, and everything will be fine.

Probably.

Mostly.

He’ll deal with whatever new problems arise later.

As arranged, Thace waits by the little blindspot he had first confronted him in, pretending (or maybe he actually is — Thace _does_ have an actual job, after all) to read through some data on a holo screen.

He looks up, catches sight of the Prince, and raises an eyebrow at Korath.

“You actually came.”

Korath frowns.

“Why wouldn’t I? I asked you to do this, didn’t I?”

Thace tilts his head with a little, “hmmm,” eyes calculating and inscrutable, before turning and gesturing over his shoulder for Korath to follow.

“My office lacks audio. Everything should be fine in the visual department — you _are_ supposed to be picking up a report from me — so we can continue this in there.”

They walk in silence for a moment before Thace arrives at his quarters, and the doors part at their arrival with a quiet hiss.

Korath takes a moment to glance around. He doesn’t visit others much (or ever, really), so seeing non-royal rooms that are also not prison cells is somewhat new to him.

The room is significantly smaller than his own, and definitely less lavish, but it is nonetheless pleasant, if sparsely decorated. The rather large, high-quality desk is clearly the focal point of the room, and it is this that Thace walks to, taking a seat behind it as the doors close.

Once the room is secure, Thace tapes in a code and unlocks a storage area, pulling out a sturdy looking chip.

“The report you requested is here. It details, with several trustworthy officers backing it up, how things ‘actually’ occurred on the evening of the escape. The prisoners in question, Samuel and Matthew Holt, consecutive prison numbers included, had boarded an escape pod — seperate to the one found and investigated — that I personally ordered to be shot down. It was destroyed, and the wreckage and remains of the certainly dead prisoners was abandoned.

“I only received word that the escape pod that is the focal point of your investigation, which was from an entirely different docking bay, was missing the next cycle, by which point it was too late to do anything. However, several guards on duty have reported that the pod did not raise any alarms, and they had thus made the assumption that it was an authorised take off. These officers have been executed.”

At this, Korath looks up sharply.

Catching sight of his expression, Thace cracks a smile.

“They were not truly executed. We invented people who did not exist and ended their lives in data only, as that is the only place they ever existed. No-one will bother to search for bodies — the Empire’s kill count is high enough that corpses are little more than an inconvenience, a surplus of waste that must be disposed of.”

Korath looks at him in shock.

“How much reach do you have, exactly, and how many people are in on this?”

Thace surveys him silently for a moment.

“Let me finish briefing you on the cover story first, yes? Then I shall answer your questions.”

With the sinking feeling that he was in far deeper than he’d thought, Korath steels himself and nods.

Thace nods back, continuing.

“We did not realize the two pods were related until you approached us and inquired into the matter. After this, you deduced that the pod that got away was intended to be only a distraction — increased security in the area of what was supposed to be their original craft likely scared them into having to switch pods, taking the one they had not disabled the alarms for, the intended decoy, which was destroyed. The one they had rigged for escape has now been recovered.”

Thace pauses, looking over to Korath. “Is this story acceptable?”

Wide eyed and reeling, all Korath can do is nod.

“This… yes. I’ll just… I’ll present this to Zarkon, and this should be sufficient for him — he never cared too much about the matter anyway, I suspect, and news of the escapees ‘death’ should be enough for him.”

“Very well.” Thace reaches out and passes the chip to Korath. “Here is the report — I assure you, it is airtight. The, ah, ‘executed’ guards who allowed the second pod to get away have several ‘friends’ among the other guards who can give details of their person while still condemning their actions, and details of the guard shifts which back up your theory of increased security changing their plan are included, as well as the pod numbers.”

Korath stares at him.

“I ask again. How great is your reach, exactly?”

Lips twitching in dry amusement, Thace gives him a pointed look.

“Surely, after revealing you have known of my, ah, ‘disloyal’ conduct, you must have realized that I am part of the Rebellion? I know Zarkon may exaggerate our weakness and small number, but I assure you, we are more than extensive enough for this.”

Blood thundering in his ears Korath slowly sinks back in shock. Oh for the love of the Empire, oh _quiznak,_ he really was in deep.

Among too-fast breaths, he manages to push out, weakly, a single word.

“Rebellion?”

Even with him suddenly finding it hard to focus his eyesight, he sees Thace grimace.

“Ah. So you really didn’t know. But truly, is it such a shock? You knew of my attitudes. How is making a connection between me and the Rebellion even slightly difficult?”

Slumping, Korath rubs a hand over his face, digging his claws into the bridge of his nose and inhaling slowly. A rebellion. There’s a rebellion, right under Zarkon’s nose, and he just got tangled up in it.

“Uncle. I didn’t realize there _was_ a rebellion.”

For the second time in four cycles, Thace looks stunned.

“You didn’t know there was a rebellion at _all?_ How could Zarkon possibly manage to keep that from you, especially with all that happened with your mother?”

Korath looks up sharply, and he can feel himself hardening.

“What about my mother?” he asks harshly, almost a growl.

Thace looks back at him, brow furrowed.

“Don’t you know why she was imprisoned? Why she was — is — a top priority prisoner?”

Heart clenching, Korath looks down, avoiding his uncle’s eye.

“I… haven’t been allowed to visit her in a… long time. Zarkon never told me why I had to stop, or even why she was locked up in the first place, and she wouldn’t tell me anything either. All she’d say is… she didn’t want Zarkon to think she’d ‘poisoned’ me.”

Thace still looks at him with confusion.

“Do you mean to tell me that you came to me for help defying Zarkon’s orders, both unaware of the incredible help my ties to the network of the Rebellion would provide and without the push from your mother to do so?”

Bewildered, Korath nods.

Thace drags a tired hand down his face, bemused and resigned.

“You really do take after her, then.” He sighs. “I suppose someone should fill you in.”

Becoming more serious, Thace walks around from behind his desk and towards Korath, only stopping when they are scarcely a pace apart.

“Korath. Your mother was arrested because she formed the Rebellion. She _led_ it.”

__________

  
Shiro gazes listlessly at the ceiling. Where his old one was dark, cracked, and dirty, this one is clean, cold, and perfect.

Aside from being served food, which, while he hardly tasted it, he most certainly ate (hunger meant weakness and weakness meant death), he’s been left to his own devices.

He is not as happy about this as one might assume. Yes, it does keep him away from the fights, but not only does that mean the others are fighting, it also means he’s doing nothing.

He’s just… waiting.

He doesn’t know what’s happened to Katie (Pidge) or Lance or Hunk, he’s confused by the Alteans, and he doesn’t know _what_ to think of Keith.

Keith, a Galran guard who is keeping Matt’s sister prisoner, along with two other Garrison cadets.

Keith, a Galran guard who seemed to be on _friendly_ terms with said human prisoners, who allowed them to be informal to him, who went to such great lengths just so Katie would know what happened to her family.

Keith, who moved Shiro to this cell and got him away from Haggar.

Keith, who could send Shiro back at any time, now that he had the information he wanted from him.

Keith, who hadn’t yet.

 _Keith,_ which was most certainly _not_ a Galran name.

Shiro kinda likes him.

But he doesn’t know that he can trust him.

And this may be the best opportunity he’ll ever get to escape, though he doesn’t know what he’ll do about that yet.

Footsteps alert him to someone approaching the door, and in less than a second he’s on his feet, tense and ready for combat.

He hears a muttered curse on the other side of the walls, along with some odd scraping noises.

_That voice sounds familiar…_

“Yes!”

The door whooshes open to reveal Lance just as he’s in the middle of a victorious fist pump, what looks like scrap metal raised proudly in one hand.

Shiro raises his eyebrows, loosening his defensive position.

Catching his eye, Lance blushes, clearing his throat and straightening.

“Uh, hey, Shiro. I’ve come to inform you of our super awesome escape plan, which is not happening right now, but will hopefully be soon. We thought that as you are an important part of the plan, you should probably know what’s going on, and we also need you to confirm that what we have planned will actually work. You in?”

He grins hopefully.

Why on earth would Shiro say no?

__________

  
 _My mother was a rebel._ Is _a rebel. I have become involved in her rebellion. I am using her rebellion to lie to my father, her husband, the Emperor of the Galran Empire she rebelled against, which is exactly the kind of thing she probably did and which landed her in jail._

Korath becomes aware that his ears are flattened against his skull in distress and hastily straightens them into a neutral position, irritated.

 _Shut it,_ he scolds himself. _You need to do this. You know you need to do this. The information on mother changes nothing._

Korath takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He can do this. He needs to do this. Everything will be fine.

 _If you don’t do this, people will die. If you don’t do this, the_ humans _will die._

Steeling himself, he forces his face into a cold mask, donning the armour of the aloof, unfeeling Prince before he pushes through the doors and into the throne room where Zarkon waits for him.

“Emperor Zarkon. As you have instructed, I have reached the bottom of the matter with the escape pod, and I have a report on the incident with me.”

__________

  
Zarkon surveys his son through unmoved, keen eyes. The energy around Korath is… different, somehow. He seems sharper, colder, but also more fiery. There is clear turmoil beneath the surface, raging, snapping conflict, and yet he presents a terrifyingly controlled, focused persona.

This control is so, so different from what Zarkon was used to from his son. Korath did not often fall into emotional displays, true, but that was not due to self-control — it was because he rarely felt strongly enough to resort to such expression. He was cool headed not because of his grasp on his emotions, but because of how much it took to sufficiently rile him up.

And yet here the Prince stands, an emotional firestorm sealed perfectly into a glacial front that reveals little.

Pride threatens to swallow him.

Was this truly the same son who had so sneeringly, irritatedly dismissed this very mission months ago, refusing to remain professional?

No, he decides, as Korath’s explanation slows to a halt. It was not the same son. The mission had done as he’d hoped — by forcing him to take full responsibility, especially for such a menial task, his son had matured.

 _He’s almost more mature than his older brother,_ Zarkon thinks with distaste.

Maybe he should try something similar with Lotor, especially since his other plan for his son hadn’t worked out…

Korath stands, waiting for his father’s verdict, clear eyed and laser sharp with tension springing along his frame.

Hmm.

In truth, he didn’t care much for the results, though he was impressed at his son’s ability to handle the convoluted mission it seems it had become. He had simply desired that the mess be sorted out without wasting resources. Now that it appeared there was no-one to hunt down, nor any punishments he needed to personally have a hand in, his interest was minimal.

However, the incompetence of his people was frustrating, and while he was reservedly impressed with Thace’s ruthless handling of the nobodies who had allowed such a confusing mix up to occur, he knew more needed to be done to prevent such a thing in future.

Eyeing the young Galra before him, the Emperor notes that, as impressed as he is with Korath’s control of his emotions and his overall conduct, removing whatever is causing such frustration would probably be for the best. No emotion was better than controlled emotion, and the mission had likely caused him undue stress.

Ergo, remove the source of the emotion; the mission, or what remained of it.

Now that it was over, there wasn’t a need to keep the prisoners around. Korath had met the deadline, and so he wouldn’t have to try and finish his mission without whatever help the prisoners provided, as there was no longer a mission to be finished. Korath wouldn't need to continue monitoring them.

Korath had met the deadline, and so he wouldn’t have to try and finish his mission without whatever help the prisoners provided, as there was no longer a mission to be finished. Korath wouldn't need to continue monitoring them.

He could take another weight off Korath’s back, for now at least.

 _And,_ Zarkon thinks sourly, _I can finally return Haggar her pet._ That would certainly remove one of his own annoyances as well.

Straightening, Zarkon delivers his verdict.

__________

  
Thace is waiting outside for him when he finally exits. He meets Korath’s eyes with an inquiring gaze.

“Well?”

Korath releases a deep, shaky breath, finally relaxing his rigid exterior, and grins.

“He was happy with the report, and has renewed faith in the competency of his Empire — though he has issued orders for new security features on the escape pods, to be implemented ship wide immediately.”

Zarkon’s proposed “new features” aren’t actually new. While access chips are required for areas that are a little more restricted, general access is granted to the average Galra through simple hand scanners. For most rooms, all that’s required to enter is Galran DNA. The escape pods did previously individually have this measure, with only the actual hanger doors requiring an access chip, but Zarkon was proposing to introduce it — a general access chip in addition to the hand scanners for every pod, as it was obvious previous features were not sufficient.

Thace’s features slacken with relief, and he gives Korath a quiet smile. “Well done.”

Huffing, Korath glances at him through too-long fur. “It’s you I should be thanking. This would have been impossible without you.”

Thace hums. “It would also be impossible without you or the Rebellion as a whole,” he notes mildly. “Were anyone else to present such a report, Zarkon would not have so readily accepted it.”

Korath shifts awkwardly, discomfort growing when Thace pins him with dissecting gaze.

“Why _did_ you do all of this, Korath? I initially assumed you were swayed by the ideology of your mother, but if not…”

The Prince looks away, features shutting down.

As grateful as he is for everything that Thace has done, and as wonderful it feels to have a more benign family member around who actually seems to _care_

(like his mother was, as his mother did)

he still has to tread carefully. Admittedly, Zarkon didn’t explicitly _say_ the humans were off the hook, but he’d met the deadline, and working from the assumption that Pidge, Lance, Hunk and Shiro weren’t in immediate danger, he wasn’t about to risk putting them in it again by being loose lipped.

He pulls his shoulders back, spine straightening, and manages a neutral tone of voice when he next speaks.

“It was a favour for some friends. Excuse me.”

Korath brushes past his uncle, doing his best to avoid taking in Thace’s facial expression.

He should probably visit the humans, finally, now that he can, now that they’re safe, now that he can tell Pidge her family is fine.

If he’s lucky, he might actually also be able to find his rogue access chip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frickin... Zuko... continues to haunt me...
> 
> I swear I actually planned to make Korath take after his mother from the beginning I'm sorry I'm original I swear
> 
> And I ALSO continue to bullshit my way through Pidge's tech skills! Huzzah! Tech, because things and stuff, now featuring Hunk
> 
> Tell me if my escape-plan-cover-story thing makes sense, because I suspect it doesn't (or, at the very least, it's not explained amazingly).
> 
> Anyway, it's obviously been a while, and I have probably forgotten bits and pieces of my own fic, so if you spot any inconsistencies, let me know! I hope you enjoyed (even if it's mostly just more set up), though it'll be at least another week before I reply to any more comments or before I update again, as I'll be wifi free for a while!
> 
> Thank you, all of you, so much! The comments I've gotten are honestly what make me want to keep going, so... yeah


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Thank you SO MUCH for all the comments, they've been super motivating, and you're all awesome! We're getting close to the end now...

“Everything good with Shiro?” Hunk asks, perking up as Lance returns. Lance grins buoyantly and hops next to him onto the bed.

“Yup! He confirmed that our plan should 10000% work perfectly, sooo…”

Lance bounces up and down on the bed a couple times while Hunk looks on, amused.

“…All we have to do is wait for Pidge to confirm with the Alteans the time for tomorrow, which Shiro obviously said is fine for him, and we’re set!”

He grins, and Hunk tries to return it, but it falters on his face. Lance’s own smile slowly fades into a frown, and he sobers slightly.

“What’s up? C’mon, I actually think the plan’s a pretty good one! Thanks to you, _this_ horrific thing-” he holds up their makeshift key card, “-actually works really well! No guards have come running or anything!”

And yeah, he’s right, the plan _is_ pretty good, and Hunk’s quite proud he managed to make Pidge’s little gadget work, but…

“What about Keith?”

Lance starts, before he hunches his shoulders and looks down guiltily.

“…What about him?”

Hunk fixes Lance with a glare.

“You _know_ he’s going to take the blame for our escape. He’s _our_ _jailer,_ remember?”

“Well,” Lance says flippantly, “maybe if he’d _visited_ more often recently, we could have talked it over with him.”

Hunk sees right through Lance’s bullshit and fixes him with a penetrating stare. “Lance.”

Lance looks at him sideways and then slumps with a sigh.

“Look, I know, alright? I don’t like it either, but I don’t know what else to do! What, should we hang around and live out the rest of our days here, just so Keith doesn’t get in trouble? Or, I know, should we _take_ _him_ _with_ _us_ and away from his home and... well, I assume family, but he hasn't said anything about anyone.” Lance pauses for a moment, staring of into the distance before his attention snaps back to Hunk. “Anyway, I don’t know if you're picking up on my sarcasm here, but my point is we don’t really have many viable options!”

With this explosion, Lance stubbornly crosses his arms and looks away.

Hunk looks down as well because… Lance is kinda right. They don’t have much choice.

That doesn’t stop the guilt, the feeling of wrongness that creeps through his chest.

“We could wait it out a little more, see what happens,” he mumbles half heartedly, picking at the fraying hem of his top.

His only response is a huff of humourless breath to his right.

And yeah, he knows it’s dumb, knows he should be valuing the freedom of six individuals over the dubious fate of one, but…

Keith had done so much to help them, and he was just a jailor (possible law enforcement? He was charged with investigation after all…), high ranking or not. It’s not like he had any sway over what went on. And not only would the four prisoners he’d stuck his neck out to help vanish on his watch, but so would the Alteans. The top secret, Very Important Prisoner Alteans.

This Empire didn’t seem like a nice one. Keith would probably end up dead.

He’s distracted from his brooding thoughts by Pidge’s return. She looks much happier than before, and while she’s not quite smiling, her eyes are sparkling behind her glasses.

“The time for tomorrow is confirmed. If the patterns between the Galra’s visits to Allura and Coran’s cell holds, we should be able to get away right after one tomorrow, so no-one will come looking for them for a while. So, I guess we’re all set! Oh —” she straightens. “Right. Gotta get rid of this.”

She uses Keith’s skeleton key card to open the door once more, and then, aiming carefully, she tosses it down the hall in such a way that it just manages to skid around the corner.

Ignoring Hunk and Lance’s impressed stares, she snatches the metal contraption from Lance’s slack hands and uses it to close the doors, then turns back to them with her hands on her hips.

“Everything good with Shiro?”

Lance nods. “Yep. Wiped the cameras?”

She tilts her head graciously.

“Already on it.”

Tossing their not-key-card to Hunk, who just barely manages to catch it, she gets down to work, and Hunk is left to once again stare down at his hands and contemplate their situation.

They’re so close, _so_ _close_ to being free. Not just him — all of them. Does he really have the right to jeopardise that for one guy, someone who’s technically an enemy?

Absently, he adjusts a loose wire on their contraption, careful not to jostle the rest of its parts.

But he can’t just let Keith die. Which, sure, that _might_ not happen, but c’mon. These guys were such stereotypical Bad Guys in so many ways…

Well, except for Keith, but he didn’t count.

Did he?

“Hey.”

He _looks_ up, startled, to meet Pidge’s gaze.

She sets aside her work, clearly finished with the cameras. Shoulders tense, she starts twisting her fingers together anxiously.

“Um. I… I wanted to apologise. For earlier, I mean.”

Hunk feels his brow furrow, mind struggling to make sense in the change in topic.

“Uh… what are you apologising for, exactly? I thought it was Lance’s bed you cannibalised.”

She huffs, grinning a little. “No, not that. Just… the whole thing with the key card. I’ve just taken charge and done everything without letting you guys really be part of it, and… I kinda forgot that you guys are also capable, and smart.”

She cringes a little.

“I get so used to being ‘good with tech’ that I forget I’m not the only one who is, so… sorry for disregarding your talents.”

Hunk looks at her a second longer, bemused, before he warms.

“Hey, no problem. I mean, why should I complain about being given less work?”

“What work do you even have to complain about?”

Hunk actually screams and _ohmygod_ , he should be used to Keith’s stupid surprise entrances by now, and since they’re actively doing a _bunch_ _of_ _shit_ _they_ _shouldn’t_ behind their captors back they should be being more vigilant but no, of course they hadn’t, of course he still managed to get the drop on them, and this was _Lance’s_ fault, _he_ was the one who should have been keeping a lookout, he wasn’t even _doing_ anything, didn’t he realize Pidge and Hunk had gotten _distracted_ talking to each other —

Hunk tries, rather unsuccessfully, to hide the not-key-card behind his back. Keith raises a single unimpressed eyebrow, and Hunk is about to try (undoubtedly unconvincingly) to claim that they’ve just been messing around with scrap metal in boredom (where would they have gotten half this stuff from within their cell?) when Lance saves him by tackling Keith, arms wrapping around his middle.

“You idiot mullet head, where the hell have you _been?”_ Drawing back, Lance punches Keith in the shoulder lightly.

Judging by the wide-eyed shock and flattened ears, Keith is sufficiently distracted by this assault.

 _Thank_ _you_ _Lance,_ Hunk thinks, mentally forgiving him for allowing Keith to sneak in in the first place and securing a more hidden position, discreetly passing the not-key-card to an equally flustered looking Pidge.

“What?” Keith asks lamely, looking a little dazed.

Lance glares at him, drawing back and punctuating his words by poking him in the chest.

“You. Haven’t. Visited. Us. In. Like. Five. Days. _Five_. _Days_. Dude! We were really worried, considering, well, everything!”

As Lance’s anger gives way to a hint of legitimate hurt, Keith shrinks back, looking guilty.

“Sorry. I. Well. I was trying to sort out everything with Pidge’s family, and I had some unpleasant people breathing down my neck, so I didn’t want to draw any attention to you while I was being so heavily scrutinised. But…”

With this he turns to Pidge, who blinks at him.

“I think your family should be off the hook. Zarkon thinks they’re dead.”

Pidge gapes at him.

“How…?”

He grimaces slightly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Slowly, a smile breaks out across her face, and, mimicking Lance of moments earlier, she lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Thanks,” she mumbles.

Keith softens from looking supremely awkward into only looking fondly awkward. Hesitantly, he reaches a clawed hand up and pats her head.

“You’re welcome.”

__________

  
Well.

Korath stops and leans against a wall as soon as he exits the cell, breathes in, and tries to organise his thoughts as clinically as possible.

He’d found the access chip (good.)

It had been right outside the human’s cell, so they had almost certainly had it in their possession (less good.)

They had made… something… out of metal…? (He isn’t sure what.)

He’s willing to bet, given their collective stubborn, reckless persistence, that if they _had_ briefly had the access chip in their possession, they would have almost certainly used it to visit Shiro (probably not good? he should check the cameras… even if Pidge edited things out there would be missing patches, which would tell him all he needed to know.)

That, combined with the… _thing_ he’d briefly witnessed Hunk fiddling with (where had it gone, anyway?), almost certainly meant they were planning something (see following thought.)

Probably an escape attempt — what else would they be attempting to accomplish? (not… good?)

He was considering letting them get away with it. (Definitely not good… right?)

Quiznak.

How in the Empire had he let this happen?

Should he act on it? He’d have to individually stop whatever they were planning himself — bringing it to anyone’s attention would lead to one of two things; They’d either be executed (if brought up to most anyone, but especially Zarkon), or he could bring it up with Thace… who would likely help them escape.

Or…

He could just let them carry out whatever it was they were planning.

So, his options seem to be to turn them over and kill them, which, frankly, isn’t an option, to passively allow them to escape, which could also very likely end with their deaths, or to actively help them gain freedom and safety through referring them to Thace, and either face his father’s wrath himself or allow Thace to bear the brunt of it, which would likely also end in his uncle’s execution. Additionally, were that to happen, Lotor and Haggar’s attitude’s towards him could prove deadly.

Quiznak.

Groaning, Korath pushes himself up to stand again and continues walking.

There was also the weird encounter he’d just had in the cell with them to consider.

What was that? Lance… tackled him? But in a... friendly way? An… aggressively friendly way?

And then Pidge had done the same thing, but less aggressively.

 _Probably just another human thing,_ he grumbles to himself, trying to ignore the embarrassed flush of affection he feels.

He redirects his attention to the far more pressing issue, staring contemplatively down at the innocuous access chip in his palm. Why had they given it up? If they’d had it, why hadn’t they kept it?

Had they lost it, accidentally dropped it on an excursion out of the cell with it? He doubts that, both because they would have no way back in the cell without it and also considering how valuable it was.

Maybe they hadn’t realized how valuable it was? Also unlikely.

Doubt starts to creep in, and his brow furrows.

Maybe… maybe they really hadn’t had it. Maybe Korath _had_ just lost it around their cell.

Or maybe _that’s_ why they threw it away. Maybe they _had_ had it, had known that he’d miss it, had known that if he found it in their possession whatever plans they had would likely be ruined.

But throwing it away crippled any escape plan anyway!

Korath drags a hand down his face in exasperatedly. How did three prisoners manage to play mind games on him without even being present? Maybe he _should_ go to Zarkon…

The immediate wall of guilt that slams into him at the thought makes him groan aloud again.

What was he going to do?

Finally making it back to his quarters, he’s relieved to see the usual guards at the entryway and gives them a quick acknowledgement before he makes his way inside. He was halfway convinced that he would see Lotor standing outside AGAIN, guards dismissed as had seemed his brother's habit, despite what he had told him at their last meeting.

Their last meeting…

Suspicion, an emotion that he’s beginning to feel is ever present, stirs again. Why _had_ his brother departed so abruptly? Yes, from what he’d managed to glean from their little exchange, the ship Lotor had initially been summoned for had been revoked. But why?

If it was as powerful as Lotor kept trying to imply, then surely Zarkon wanted to put it to use. And who would he get to pilot it other than his own son?

True, Lotor was a little… erratic when he wasn’t impersonating a glacier, and generally liked to stay on the sidelines, but he’d actually seemed… _eager_ to pilot this ship.

Which was a mystery in and of itself.

So, a ship that was incredibly powerful, that Zarkon was sure to want to use, that also had a potential pilot Zarkon trusted with something so powerful, and that had made Lotor interested? Surely, Zarkon would have been thrilled at his oldest son actually being enthusiastic at taking action…

So, why?

Korath stops that thought right where it is.

He has enough problems, and he is currently avoiding all of them. He doesn’t need to go and dig up more.

But…

Something about this makes him uneasy. He can’t just… ignore it. And he knows what a dangerous position he’s found himself in. A gap in knowledge could be fatal.

Besides, what else is he doing right now? Agonising over his problems in his room? It’s not like he was going to accomplish anything that way, and he doesn’t even know what actions he could take to resolve the dilemmas he’s facing.

If he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t even know what kind of outcome he wants.

There aren’t many places on the ship one could hide a massive superweapon/spaceship/top secret project. And he had now found the access chip that would almost certainly allow him entry.

He shouldn’t.

For a moment, he stands, undecided.

And then sweeps out of the room, just moments after he’d entered.

Let the guards think what they will. Korath had always been a little odd. Just as Lotor was. And Haggar.

If nothing else, at least it gave him something to do.

__________

  
“My Emperor.” Haggar makes a sweeping bow.

Zarkon, having turned to face her, remains impassive, waiting.

“I regret to inform you I have some… concerns regarding Korath. He has become defiant, towards me only for now, but perhaps soon towards you.”

Zarkon’s eyes are cold. “I believe my son’s attitude has improved greatly over the past few cycles. His mission has done him good, and he acted as I wished.”

Despite the warning in his words, Haggar is calm. She knows what she is doing. “I simply wished to inform you that I believe he may soon do something… foolish, and that I have structured a, ah, ‘response’ if you will. If he does nothing, my suspicions are unfounded, and I shall apologise, but if not… this may teach him a lesson, and get rid of nuisances all at once.”

She waits, one breath, then two.

“Continue.”

__________

Frustrated, Korath lets yet another door close behind him, exiting into the hallway. He’s now made his way through the entire hangar, and he hasn’t found anything special (admittedly, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for, but he recognizes all of the crafts he sees.)

Then again, he hadn’t truly thought it would be here.

Time to move from “rooms that could conceivably hold a ship” to “rooms that are away from prying eyes.”

Slowly, he wends his way towards a very specific wing.

He knows the way. It’s familiar. He’s walked down this way many times, visiting his mother when he could, right up until he couldn’t. This particular section of the ship was… ‘restricted.’ Most other areas of the ship were dedicated to a specific purpose. Fighting, education, upkeep, private quarters.

‘Entertainment.’

Prison.

This one was the “few should know of it” section, which meant basically anything ‘top secret’ was stored here, be it information or people.

Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t entirely sure why Allura and Coran weren’t here. Perhaps they just demanded even greater privacy than this section provided.

Allura and Coran _had_ had a section all to themselves, after all. And, actually, that particular hallway wasn’t far from this one.

Walking past the door he used to stop at as a child with some difficulty, he makes his way to the end of the hall. If a ship were to be stored here, it would have to be somewhere that it could be flown in and out, meaning it had to be at the edge of the ship.

Reaching the door, Korath pauses. Slowly he lifts up Haggar’s access chip, and then hesitates.

He allows himself a moment to breathe in, and then determinedly swipes.

The door slides open.

And Korath’s mouth drops open with it, because there, standing proudly in the centre of a private hangar and surrounded by a glowing forcefield, is a gigantic robotic lion.

The red lion of Voltron.

He was an idiot. Oh, Empire, he was an idiot. How had he not realized? Powerful craft, special choice for pilot, top secret…

Korath feels himself go cold as the implications sink in.

Destroying Balmeras? That was the least of what this thing was capable of, never mind if Zarkon had the other lions…

…which was thankfully unlikely. What had Allura said when he’d first met her? They didn’t know where the lions were? The use of “lions” would imply Zarkon was still looking for at least two. The fact that the red lion was sitting here alone suggested it was the only one Zarkon had.

For now.

And one on its own could still do plenty of damage. If Zarkon could, would, destroy Balmeras with it, what else was he planning to use it for?

Well, he knew what Zarkon could do. Murder. _Mass_ Murder. All other species were ‘inferior’ after all. The Galra lived by the idea that if a species couldn’t survive, they clearly didn’t deserve to live.

Korath feels a little sick.

Surely… his father wouldn’t be _quite_ that extreme.

Would he?

Can… can he really stand aside and let that happen?

Or worse, he realizes, with a sinking pit in his stomach, can he actively be a part of that? Zarkon had already attempted to foist the lion onto one of his sons. Maybe Lotor hadn’t been skilled enough to pilot it. Maybe Zarkon would turn to his other, more flight adept son next.

His more flight adept, recently-proven-himself-to-be-responsible-and-able-to-follow-orders son.

The large, echoing room suddenly seems terrifyingly silent as Korath’s breath freezes in his lungs.

Oh, he shouldn't have come looking. He didn't need to know this — didn't _want_ to know this. This just complicates everything.

Can he stay entirely (or even just largely) loyal to his father, knowing the risk, knowing — this? Knowing that this is the danger his father presents, that this is how his Emperor would use whatever power that came to him?

Although… he’d always known, hadn't he? It had just been so… removed, so unreal before.

Now that he’s facing the fact that he’ll be part of it (through either being recruited as its pilot or stepping aside and letting someone else do the dirty work), the reality comes crashing down around him.

In his mind’s eye, he sees Allura’s abused skin and lifeless hair, Shiro’s hurting wariness, Pidge's feral desperation to find her family, Lance’s thin veneer of cheer covering his deep ache of homesicknesss, Hunk’s kindness and solidity in the face of being locked up before he was properly an adult by a species he hadn't known existed…

Continuing as a dutiful prince would make him responsible for others falling into that fate — if they were lucky.

The lion’s glowing eyes seem to bore into him, cold, removed, and ancient, but also... quietly evaluating...?

 _Great,_ Korath thinks hysterically, _I'm_ _so_ _wound_ _up_ _and_ _confused_ _that_ _I'm_ _imagining_ _that_ _a_ giant robot lion _is_ _judging_ _me_.

But the fact remains that he has a decision to make, and that he doesn't even have a moral code anymore to refer to to make that decision.

He needs to speak to someone. Desperately.

Well… he can't go to the humans to talk about whether he should help with their own escape attempt, or otherwise stop them and maybe be required to commit genocide.

Thace would be his next choice but... if he goes to Thace, Thace would probably help them escape, which would just narrow his options even further — he'd either have to turn them all in to be killed or be complicit in their plans.

It’s a little sad to realize those are his main options for an understanding ear.

A bolt of realization hits him.

Oh. _Oh_.

He had the option, didn’t he? After all, it was only _Korath_ who was banned, and he wasn’t currently entering rooms through _Korath’s_ access codes.

Indecision battles determination, desperation, and a deep longing for something that he could maybe finally have again, thanks to Haggar’s chip.

It isn’t much of a fight. Why not disobey the last standing order from Zarkon that he hasn’t broken?

He hastily exits the room, throwing a last wary glance at the looming, stoic presence behind him.

Shaking off the feeling of being dwarfed by an entity far older than he will ever be, he makes his way just two doors down.

__________

  
“My Lord. As I suspected, he has alerted my sensors. Shall I continue with my plan?”

Silence.

Then…

“Do so.”

__________

“Korath…?”

The name is whispered almost reverently, and as he looks into wide, weary eyes full of affectionate hope, he feels himself break.

“Mom,” he chokes out.

“Oh, my child…” Her lack of restraints allow her to rush towards him and cup the base of his skull, pressing her forehead to his.

It hurts him all over again to feel how weak she is. She had always been strong, so strong, in every conceivable way to him when he was younger. Although she is about as lean as he is, she had strong, broad shoulders comparative to her frame, and well muscled limbs that she’d worked hard to maintain.

In the past, at least.

As she draws back, it seems to Korath that she’s let her care routine fall to the wayside. She’s thinner, almost gaunt, and the hard tone to her body is long gone. Her hair, always short but aggressively perfect, has grown longer, but in a wispy, lacklustre way. The fluffy, almost subtle (if decently sized) mammalian ears that he’d inherited almost seemed to _droop,_ if such a thing were possible.

She seems…

Tired.

Resigned.

And he has to wonder if she’d only continued her routine at all after her arrest because he’d initially been around to see her.

“Korath…”

He falls out of his thoughts with a blink and returns his full attention to her.

Her expression has become guarded.

“I was informed that you would no longer be visiting me. That was… very long ago.” She surveys him for a moment. “I expect you shouldn’t be here.”

He steps back a little, hurt.

Seeing this, she sighs, the guarded expression leaving and only weariness remaining.

“I am happy to see you, my son… but whatever joy this visit brings me is not worth the pain that you may suffer for such a visit.”

He stares at her for a moment, hesitating. It’s not too late to turn around and leave…

No.

He has to know — has to know both what he should do, and why his mother did what he is considering doing.

“Why did you rebel against Zarkon… against your husband, and Emperor? What did he do that made you…?”

“Korath.” She looks cold, now, eyes dead, and suddenly he can see the leader of a rebellion in her. “I told you I wouldn’t speak of this with you, and Zarkon,” she says the name with a sneer, “hasn’t been either of those things to me for many years.”

Suddenly, her lips twitch up in amusement, and her whole face lightens for it, if only infinitesimally.

“Although I shouldn’t be surprised you figured out what I was imprisoned for. You always were bright, if also rather selectively observant.” Saddening, she wistfully adds, “you’ve gotten so big…”

Shifting uncomfortably, he clears his throat and ignores the latter comment to address the former.

“Actually,” he ducks his head sheepishly, “I didn’t figure it out. Thace had to tell me.”

Instead of looking amused, as he’d hoped, she suddenly grows thunderous, and all remaining illusions of weakness vanish.

“He did _what?_ Has he tried to involve you in the rebellion? If he has, I swear I will kill him-“

“No, mom!” Korath hastily cuts in. “He thought I already knew. He accidentally let it slip when… well, that’s what I want to talk to you about.” A thought strikes him, and he frowns.

“Wait… why wouldn’t you want me to follow a cause you believe in…?”

His mother’s facade of a proud warrior melts, and she sighs. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she pauses before murmuring, “it’s not that easy, Korath. You are the Prince! The Emperor’s son! You are under much closer scrutiny than most. Look what happened to me,” she finishes with a bitter laugh.

Her hand drops away and she continues.

“Besides… I am your mother. No matter how much I believe in something, I can’t knowingly thrust you into even more danger than you —”

A dense wall of sound slams into him right as something else slams into her.

She screams, quick and sharp.

Korath’s ears ring with the blast and he hunches over, looking around dazedly.

His mother.

Wasn’t she in front of him a moment ago?

Where had she…?

He looks down.

His ears stop ringing.

Now they’re roaring.

If he had thought his mother had looked small before, the effect is only amplified by her form collapsed and loose at his feet.

He falls to his knees.

Where’s the wound? There’s blood everywhere, and its so dark, but where’s the wound? His hands frantically twitch over her, trying to do _something_. Her middle? Most of the blood is concentrated on her torso. But the blood is so dark and _where_ _is_ _the_ _wound?_ How can he help her if he doesn’t know —

Her hand covers his in a weak grasp.

Heart pounding, he stares at it for several long moments before slowly raising his eyes to hers.

Her face is weary and tired, so tired…

She opens her mouth as if to speak, breathes in…

And breathes out.

Her chest falls still.

And for him, the world stills with it.

__________

“Prince Korath.”

His son doesn’t respond. He remains, staring blankly at the pathetic corpse that had once been an Empress and revolutionary.

It may seem extreme to execute the mother of the Prince for a single indiscretion on his son’s part, but in truth Zarkon had been waiting for an opportunity to do such a thing for a long time. There were only two reasons such a powerful and volatile political figure had been kept alive at all; one was the risk of her becoming a martyr. She had been a well known political figure, and it was only in the last few years that her imprisonment had ceased to hold public attention.

The other, more compelling reason had been the nature of her child. When he had been unable to permanently rid himself of her and all the problems she represented, the best he had been able to do to remove her influence from Korath had been to ban his visits. Once public ire had died down and it had been safer to finish her off, his assertion to Korath not to visit had become a problem.

If he killed her, seemingly to Korath without reason, it would not lend well to Korath’s already reluctant obedience; it would seem that, despite following orders, an undesirable outcome had been achieved anyway.

This way, Korath gets a demonstration of what disobedience results in; he will believe this to be his fault, and Zarkon can finally rid himself of the woman that has plagued his plans in more recent times.

Haggar moves up to Zarkon’s side, practically radiating satisfaction. She had always held a special hatred for Zarkon’s now late wife, and had delivered the fatal bolt of druidic energy with dark enthusiasm.

What’s left of her magic fades as she contemplates the Prince, expression slowly becoming more neutral.

Ignoring her, Zarkon continues to address his son, refusing to continue to vie for anyone’s attention and instead proceeding as though he knew for a fact he had it.

“I warned you not to disobey me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe... I can't fucking believe a fridged his mother. Oh my god I thought I was better than this. Oh well, my first murder! Yaaay... Also I wrote "Zuko" instead of "Korath" or "Keith" a couple times. Wtf. I need sleep. Also the parallels just kEEP GETTING WORSE, ESPECIALLY SINCE I READ A ZUKO FIC REC IN THE COMMENTS (you know who you are. Look what you've done to me.) (jk I did it to myself.)
> 
> So. Um. Sorry for the super late update, but (if anyone cares) I have some... bad news in that department. I might (MIGHT) not be able to post the next chapter for like... 4-5 months. I mean, I MIGHT, but... just a warning. Not abandoned though! We're close to the end and I am Stubborn. And in the same vein, I might be even worse about replying to comments. Fear not, I will! But if I haven't for ages then just know I am not neglecting you! ...On purpose!
> 
> But yeah, I am not going to ramble QUITE as much this time round because I am Tired. Oh my god am I tired. I have slept 5 hours in the past 2 days I wanna diiieeee... might update the notes later. Let me know if you spot anything that needs to be fixed!
> 
> Anyway, as always, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> SO WHEN I WAS HALFWAY DONE EDITING I REALIZED THAT ONLY THACE (the good guy galran) HAS EYEBROWS??? LIKE, NONE OF THE GALRA HAVE FREAKIN EYEBROWS, AND I REFER TO KEITH'S SEVERAL TIMES. Oh well. And yes, Korath IS Keith. Keith just didn't exactly sound Galran. Also, sorry for the weird mix of American/British spelling -- I really have no explanation for that. Hope you enjoyed, and while I'll likely continue this, there are, you know, other things that will likely take priority, so I guess we'll see!


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